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The Man he Killed a poem by Thomas Hardy


Had he and I but met 
By some old ancient inn, 
We should have set us down to wet 
Right many a nipperkin! 

But ranged as infantry, 
And staring face to face, 
I shot at him as he at me, 
And killed him in his place. 

I shot him dead because-- 
Because he was my foe, 
Just so: my foe of course he was; 
That's clear enough; although 

He thought he'd 'list, perhaps, 
Off-hand like--just as I-- 
Was out of work--had sold his traps-- 
No other reason why. 

Yes; quaint and curious war is! 
You shoot a fellow down 
You'd treat, if met where any bar is, 
Or help to half a crown.

The Man he Killed
Thomas Hardy

 

 
The Man he Killed poem - Thomas Hardy

 

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