MINES
(Sent from France in November 1917)
WHAT are you doing, Sentry,Fresh-faced and brown? Waiting for the mines, Sir, Sitting on the mines, Sir, Just to keep them down.Mines going up, and no one to tell for usWhere it will be, and may be it’s as well for us,Mines going up. Oh! God, but it’s hell for us, Here with the bloody mines.
What are you doing, Sentry, Cold and drawn and grey? Listening to them tap, Sir, Same old tap, tap, tap, Sir, And praying for the day.
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