“Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
The five unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
The warranted genuine Snarks.
“Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
With a flavour of Will-o’-the-wisp.
The ‘orcs’ bombs.
That began falling.
On Ukraine on 24 February.
2022 turned.
Tens of thousands.
Of ‘elves’ civilians.
Into soldiers.
Overnight.
“Its habit of getting up late you’ll agree
That it carries too far, when I say
That it frequently breakfasts at five-o’clock tea,
And dines on the following day.
Many who had never.
Held a weapon before.
Rushed to.
Take up arms.
In the four years.
That have followed.
As the war has ground on.
As the war has ground on.
And the initial.
Patriotic fervour.
Has died down.
Has died down.
Thousands more.
Have been conscripted.
Thousands more.
Have been conscripted.
“The third is its slowness in taking a jest.
Should you happen to venture on one,
It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed:
And it always looks grave at a pun.
For men.
Service is open-ended.
And applies to those.
Aged 25-65.
Women can serve.
On a contractual basis.
Women can serve.
On a contractual basis.
“The fourth is its fondness for bathing-machines,
Which it constantly carries about,
And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes—
A sentiment open to doubt.
Speaking from.
Mud-soaked dugouts.
Speaking from.
Drone command centres.
Speaking from.
Frontline observation posts.
Speaking from.
Rehabilitation centres.
Seven ‘elves’ soldiers.
Have said.
About the civilians.
They once were.
About the soldiers.
They have become.
– and the toll the war.
Has taken on them.
“The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
To describe each particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
From those that have whiskers, and scratch.
“For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet, I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums—” The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.
*Because I read “Civilians to soldiers: how four years of war has changed ordinary Ukrainians” by Laura Gozzi on 21 Feb 2026, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, led by ‘The Hunting of the Snark’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Civilians to soldiers: how four years of war has changed ordinary Ukrainians
