Work-a-day Warriors/The Nurse

by Joseph Lee

Illustration by Joseph Lee from 'Work-a-day Warriors' by Joseph Lee, published in 1917

THE NURSE

 

THE NURSE

 

When I came to mysel' a lily-white hand
Was stroking my fever'd brow,
And I couldn't remember where I'd been hit,
And I couldn't remember how,
But I felt as if from red-hot hell
The Lord had just set me free—
And here was a blessed angel from heaven
A-bending over me!

She had a smile like a morn o' May,
And the kindest of soft grey eyes;
And I felt a sort o' confused, I suppose,
And I guess that I made to rise;
But she held me easy wi' one small hand,
And she said, "Now, you must lie still,"
And I hadn't the strength o' a new-born babe,
And so I just done her will.

I closed my peeps, and I lay for a spell
Stretched out in my little cot,
A-trying to think what I'd gave them Huns—
A-trying to think what I'd got,
And, by-me-bye, my leg gave a twinge,
Made me more curse than cry,
And I says to mysel', "Well, number one
Is a compound fractured thigh!"

I explored no further for a bit,
But lay still in my little bed,
Till sudden a bandage slipped o'er my eye,
And says I, "Number two's in the head";
Then I noses about again, and remarks,
"There ain't no cause for alarm,
But unless I'm mighty mistaken, Mike,
Number three's in your fore left arm!"

I'd got splints all over my pore old stumps,
And lint all over my skin,
And I found 'arf a dozen apertures
What had let bits o' shrapnel in;
And thinks I, "You've more metal in your hide
Than money in your purse,"
And I opened my eyes, and attempted to smile,
And there again was the Nurse.

She looked at me so sorrowful,
Yet brightly, too. Says I,
"It's no use patching a hulk like me,
Nurse, hadn't you best let me die?"
I seen her brush her eyes with her hand,
Then she gave her proud head a toss,
And, "Michael," she says, "would you like to see
A Red Cross Nurse really cross?"

The way that that girl manœuvred me,
The sort o' things that she done,
'Twas like having my old mother back again
And I but a kid aged one;
There's nothing that's pretty about me,
And I'm only one half tamed,
But when she'd attend to my toileting,
I felt thankful—and ashamed!

It was always, "Mike, good mornin',
And how do you feel to-day?"
And yet she'd the sharpest of eyes to see
My drugs duly stowed away;
The visitin' Surgeon's very good,
And the resident Doctor, too,
But I places it here on record,
It was Nursey what pulled me through!

The sight o' her face seemed to ease my pain,
The sound o' her voice done me good,
And she was so gentle and kind wi' me,
What had been so sinful and rude;
I done a heap o' pondering,
And at nights before I slept,
When I thought what I'd been with women,
I just turned on my face and wept.

The world is full o' good women,
And if they're not all the same,
I'm doubting, matey, that you and me
Are somehow a bit to blame;
And when I'm a-crawling around on my crutch
And Sister goes up the ward,
I think, there are angels withouten wings,
And I'm glad, and I thank the Lord!