"We're up agin it, mate; we know that well.
There ain't a man among us wouldn't lob
Over the parapit an' charge like 'ell
To end the job.
But this is war; an' discipline—well, lad,
We sez we 'ates it; but we ain't too bad.
"Glory an' gallant scraps is wot I dreamed,
Ragin' around an' smashin' foemen flat;
But war, like other things, ain't wot it seems.
So 'stid uv that,
I'm sittin' in me dug-out scrawlin' this.
An' thankin' Gawd when shells go by—an' miss.
"I'm sittin' in me dug-out day be day—
It narks us; but Australia's got a name
Fer doin' little jobs like blokes 'oo play
A clean, straight game.
Wiv luck I might see scrappin' 'fore I'm done,
Or go where Craig 'as gone, an' miss the fun.
"But if I dodge, an' keep out uv the rain,
An' don't toss in me alley 'fore we wins;
An' if I lobs back 'ome an' meets the Jane
'Oo sent the skins—
These bunnies' overcoats I lives inside—
I'll squeal at 'er, an' run away an' 'ide.
