‘Over the top to-morrer; boys, we’re for it,
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that’s tore it.’
‘Ah well,’ says Jimmy, — an’ ‘e’s seen some scrappin’ —
‘There ain’t more nor five things as can ‘appen;
Ye get knocked out; else wounded — bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feeling mushy.’
One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops.
T’other was hurt, like, losin’ both ‘is props.
An’ one, to use the word of ‘ypocrites,
‘Ad the misfortoon to be took by Fritz.
Now me, I wasn’t scratched, praise God Almighty
(Though next time please I’ll thank ‘im for a blighty),
But poor young Jim, ‘e’s livin’ an’ ‘e’s not;
‘E reckoned ‘e’d five chances, an’ ‘e’s ‘ad;
‘E’s wounded, killed, and pris’ner, all the lot —
The ruddy lot all rolled in one. Jim’s mad.