Classic Poem

He stood against the trunk to light his pipe
And, glancing at the green boughs overhead,
We'll pinch those almonds when they're ripe , he said.

But, now the almond-shells are brown and ripe,
Somewhere in No-man's-land he's lying dead,
And other lads are pinching them instead.

I've half a mind to save him one or two
In case his ghost comes back to claim a few,
And do the other things he meant to do.