30
stowed
a flask in each,
'N' presently I'm thinkin' I could love him
like a brother.
He's talkin' fond 'n' friendly in outlandish
parts of speech.
"You're prisoner of war," I sez; 'n' then
we had another.
Ten flasks he pours into his hat, 'n' fills it
to the brim,
'N' weeps 'n' sez his frau she will be waitin'
up for him.
We drink each other's health, 'n' know no
henmity nor fear.
I see I've got to pinch him, but he's out to
do his div. in,
'N' don't care if he don't go home till daylight
doth appear.
Sez he: "I pud you home to bed upside dot
'ouse you live in."
He shakes his finger in me eye: "Mein friendt,
you're preddy trunk!"
Then arm in arm through No Man's land we
does a social bunk.
There's Fear afoot. Comes more than once
the glug of sudden death.
We're rockin' fine 'n' careless where the
rifle fire is breakin',
'N' singin' most uproar'ous, in the bomb's
disgustin' breath,
Of girls, 'n' drink, 'n' cheerful sprees, 'n'
'Herman thinks he's takin'
A cobber home to somewhere in an subbub
damp 'n' dim,
Whereas I know fer certain it is me is takin'
him.
Somehow, sometime, I lands him where he's
safely put to bed.
I wake nex' day, 'n' holy smoke! I'm prisoner
with the German.
Me mouth is like an ashpan, there's hot fishbolts
in me head,
'N' through the barb-wire peerin' is me
foreigh cobber 'Erman.
"Ve capdure each lasd nighd," sez he "you
home haf bring me, boss."
For bravery in takin' me, he got the Iron
Cross!
WHEN TOMMY CAME MARCHING HOME.
DEVINE came back the other day.
We'd planned a great home-comin'.
No long trombone we had to play,
No fine, heroic drummin'.
With two sticks and a milk-can Borne
Put up a martial clatter,
While Carter blew a bullock-horn
Says Tom Devine, with