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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dead-beat</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He dropped, - more sullenly than wearily, <br>Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat, <br>And none of us could kick him to his feet; <br>-just blinked at my revolver, blearily; <br>- Didn't appear to know a war was on, <br>Or see the blasted trench at which he stared. <br>'I'll do 'em in,' he whined. 'If this hand's spared, <br>I'll murder them, I will.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A low voice said, <br>'It's Blighty, p'raps, he sees; his pluck's all gone, <br>Dreaming of all the valiant, that aren't dead: <br>Bold uncles, smiling ministerially; <br>Maybe his brave young wife, getting her fun <br>In some new home, improved materially. <br>It's not these stiffs have crazed him; nor the Hun.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We sent him down at last, out of the way. <br>Unwounded; - stout lad, too, before that strafe. <br>Malingering? Stretcher-bearers winked, 'Not half!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Next day I heard the Doc's well-whiskied laugh: <br>'That scum you sent last night soon died. Hooray!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536270" data-title="The Dead-beat de Wilfred Owen" data-description="He dropped, - more sullenly than wearily, 
Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat, 
And none of us could kick him to his feet; 
-just blinked at my revolver, blearily; 
- Didn't appear to know a war was on, 
Or see the blasted trench at which he s..."></div>
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