OT Half remembered bit of poetry/prose - any ideas what it is?

Goes something like 'what does it matter losing a leg' or possibly
'losing an eye' or possibly both. And it may start 'It doesn't
matter'.

Has a ring of war poet or Ted Hughes about it. I hoped it might ring a
bell with Platy, but it didn't. And I daren't start flicking through
poetry anthologies as I can lose hours in the library.

 

In uk.rec.motorcycles, Lady Nina amazed us all with this pearl of
wisdom:

Try Google:

http://www.google.co.uk/search?
hl=en&q=what+does+it+matter+losing+a+leg+an+eye+poem&btnG=Google+Search&
meta=

 

Siegfried Sassoon?

 

Bear
wrote:

The full version`s here if you need it;
http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/4270/

Not sure if its meant to be melancholy or sarcastic...??

 

I fucking did! In various permutations. Still I know now and that's
the important thing. It's like a brain itch when you just have a tiny
piece of something, like being ear wormed but worse.

 

Some of the imagery is firmly rooted in the middle class. But whatever...

Actually it's quite reminiscent of "Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye".

 

In uk.rec.motorcycles, Lady Nina amazed us all with this pearl of
wisdom:

Yeah I know that one. It's called getting up in the morning!

 

Yes. One of the things I like about LARPing is the bardic element,
there is a group [1] who sing in the faction tavern who perform that
as part of their set and there's something spine chilling about
everyone joining in with "With drums and guns, and guns and drums"

 

You may already know I'm a folky. Can't say I enjoy the
finger-in-the-ear nasal monotony that often passes for folk music, but
a lot of songs have survived the centuries simply because they say
what they say so effectively. True poetry, in fact.

 

Oh, fer Chrissakes. I've just come across this thread, and me with half
a dozen war poems committed to memory.

Yes, it's Siegfried Sassoon.

Does it matter? - Losing your legs?...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter ? - losing your sight?...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter? - those dreams from the pit?...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit.

 

One drop of blood on my counterpane,
Doesn't mean to say there's an amputee coming,
Don't start heaving over secondhand bleeding,
Cos it doesn't matter, no it doesn't matter.

It's a storm in a teacup, brewing up trouble

 

Got no legs? Don't come crawling to me.