O God, it is so harsh and very cold
But onward and driven, we must go
Our journey South so frighteningly bold
To reach a Pole where nought will grow,

Rations frozen, now frostbitten fingers
Fallen canines reluctantly eaten
And feet unfelt where pain just lingers
We battle on, we cannot be beaten.

But yet we lost, Amundsen beat us
We’ll leave a mark to say we arrived
There was no cheer, nor slightest fuss
A bitter taste for those deprived.

So few of us remain, a smaller fire will burn
Captain Oates stepped out last night, so gallant
He said he would just be awhile, but didn’t return
Such men have been my comrades, such talent.

Heroes all, this unfortunate company of gallant men
Edward Wilson, Edgar Evans, and Henry Bowers
Their strength of character I’ve known not when
Each one above the norm now towers.

And yet now here, failed, and trying to reach our shore
I feel our journey now will end, we are so feeble
“It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more
R. Scott — for God’s sake, look after our people.”

©Joe Wilson – An ill-fated journey…2016

Robert Falcon Scott made it to the South Pole,
though he was beaten there by Roald Amundsen.
He and his men died on the way home
just eleven miles from food supplies.