Falklands: a sonnet

As Adam thrusts his crown above the clouds, Maria stands imperious and prim And Emery and Simon ranking proud Preside above a tapestry so grim, Where Wireless Ridge and ghosts of Tumbledown Give way to Sapper's Hill and lowland mists, There will be tracks of tears but not from clowns, As Smoko next to Robinson insists, Two Sisters sang an elegy lament For Young, for old embitterments and spite, For foolishness, for every bullet spent That made our egos still desire the right, Humility may build an epitaph But dead men seldom find the time to laugh.