Saturday, 9 August 2008

War poetry

I've been going through old family papers and found this. This is an original work by my grandfather while he was serving in France during World War I.


Who took me from my warm, warm cot
Whether I wanted to or not
and sent me to France to die – and rot?
The Army!

Who “feeds” me up on bread and jam
and smiles as innocent as a lamb
Then days he doesn’t care a damn?
The Quarter!

Who takes parade and moans like hell
at what no doubt he alone can tell
and makes you wish your name was Nell?
The Major!

Who fries our eggs at 5 a franc
and puts the profit in the bank
While we look thin and awful lank?
Why! Dickens!

Who causes this war, the ruddy swine
And bought us here to fade and pine
Who should be stewed in boiling brine?
The Kaiser!

Who feels our pulse and says “you’re fine”
And gives us naught but “number nine”
When you’ve icicles running down your spine?
The Doctor!

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