TO THE ARM CHAIR CRITIC
I reads all the papers sent aht ‘ere to the front
‘Cause I’m one of many thousand boys who are bearing all the brunt;
And I’ve some rather searching questions to ask the man who’s over there
Who could easily win fifty wars from the depth of his arm chair
‘Ave you ever done a fifteen mile a wearin’ Tommy Atkins’ pack?
Why, if you tried to lift it, it would break your bloomin back
‘Ave you ever slept in draughty billets, where the rats go chasing round
Or, where there aint no billets, just on the wet, cold ground?
‘Ave you ever seen the trenches an’ the miseries wot’s there?
‘Ave you ever seen a shell come over, an’ been near it when it bust,
An’ maybe blown your own best pal to particles of dust?
‘Ave you ever been aht wiring’ on a cold an’ rainy night?
‘As the gas alarm going ever made your ‘air stand on up with fright?
‘Ave you cowered on the fire step as the sky’s been raining shell,
Expecting every minute to find yourself in ‘ell?
‘Ave you seen a stream of wounded a-goin’ to the base?
An’ have you seen the silent tears run down a strong man’s face?
‘Ave you ever dug a grave at midnight for ‘im as was your mate?
‘Ave you ever prayed that ‘Blighty might be your lucky fate?
I’d like to ask a lot more things but haven’t got the time;
Them bloomin ‘Uns have gone an sprang another mine.
Just remember these last words, an’ don’t sit down there an yelp –
But don the country’s Khaki, and come over here an’ help!
No 267302 Private George William HIRST of Brighouse
2 Platoon, A Company, 26th Battalion West Riding Regiment (Duke of Wellington’s)
186th Infantry Brigade, 62nd Division, BEF, France
This poem sent to his Uncle Simeon SMITH then an Employee of Firth Carpets at Firthcliffe, New York State USA was published there during World War One (Simeon emigrated to the USA arriving there, 26th August 1906)
(George William HIRST born 1896, probably at 69 New Street, Brighouse, survived the War)
SENT TO ME BY A MATE.........
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SENT TO ME BY A MATE.........
Duncan
What contemptible scoundrel has stolen the cork to my lunch? -- W.C. Fields
"Many of those who enjoy freedom know little of its price."
You can't fix Stupid, but you can occasionally head it off before it hurts something.
What contemptible scoundrel has stolen the cork to my lunch? -- W.C. Fields
"Many of those who enjoy freedom know little of its price."
You can't fix Stupid, but you can occasionally head it off before it hurts something.