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[Page 146]
The Red Cross Bloke
Not a blinking rap do we care for the chap
With the Red Cross on his sleeve,
Till we get to the front, on the stand to stunt,
and a farewell Bomb when you leave,
Midst the flying death you hold your breath,
and life seems suddenly dear
While the Red Cross chap is out of the scrap
In the safest part at the rear.
It don't seem fair for him to be there,
While we face the poison an smoke,
An' check the Huns with red hot guns
an' cheer, an curse, an choke.
But many a lad feels thundering glad,
When night lends a sheltering a cloak,
To be overhauled by the cloak he's called
The blooming red cross bloke.
My own turn came, its part of the game –
In a scrap we had before Loos
When the blinking Huns tried to pinch the guns,
Of the 5th – never mind whose –
They tried an' tried, an you bet they died
While we lost many a chum.
Till word came through – now lads stand to –
And be next was "Here they come.
We charged and yelled, and the line was held
But I can't remember the rest,
For the earth spun around an I hit the ground
With daylight in my chest.
When next I awoke, a Red Cross bloke,
Was crossing that zone of death
An I watched come through the shrapnel hum
Just watched an' held my breath,
Till he reached my side with a crawl an glide,
An' I blessed his crimson crest,
For he made me snug with a comfy plug
On the painful hole in my chest.
Then away he crept, an' I must have slept
For when I awoke with the pain,
Over