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[Page 140]
Pal of Mine
Ginger wasn't much to look at he was dirty vulgar low
But I bet he's a favourite where game dying soldiers go
He'd never had no schooling & he'd sell his shirt for wine
But I loved him as a brother – lion hearted pal o mine
Oftd I see you little comrade as I did that winter's morn
your blood flecked lips swearing the old smile ever worn
Where the rattle of the rifles & the roar of bursting shell
With screams of men hard dying made it all a proper Hell
On that grey & cheerless morning the mist wrack all aswirl
I kissed you lips old comrade as I've never kissed a girl
"Fall in" for you was sounding – the last great trumpets call
Your soul "stood to attention" on the field that levels all
Well I don't know much of Heaven this harps & halo game
Though the Chaplain used to tell us as how a Christian came
Who'd save the poor & lowly if they pray'd it to him square
Though in hell I am game to meet you little comrade if youre there
Yet I sometimes get to thinking in the day beyond the night
There's a Heaven home for soldiers who battle for the right
The soldier's Hell is No mansland with the star shells overhead
& the red moon kind of leering on the battered bloody dead