FROM THE GREAT WAR
193
The rider pitches forward, an' you catch 'im as 'e drops.
It's w'en 'e sees 'is danger, an' 'e knows 'is way about
That a bloke is blamed lucky if 'e's knocked completely out.
But out on Active Service there are dangers everywhere,
The shrapnel shell and bullet that comes on you unaware,
The saucy little rifle is a perky little maid,
An' w'en you've got 'er message you 'ave done your last parade.
The four-point-five will seek you from some distant leafy wood,
An' taps you on the napper an' you're out of step for good.
From the gun within the spinney to a sniper up a tree
There are terrors waitin' Tommy in the things 'e doesn't see.
