Classic Poem

Here are the Old Sweats sayings. He tells the tale of his trade—
Gleanings from trench and dug-out, battle, fatigue, parade.

'Tis said the Boche has pluck enough. Of this I have no doubt,
But see him in the darkest light until you've knocked him out.

Your dug-out took you hours to build. Got broken in a minute!
A rotten shame! Be thankful, son, your carcass isn't in it.

And if one shelters you a night tend it roof and rafter,
And make it better than it was—for those who follow after.

“The trench is calm,” you say, my son. The Boche is keeping quiet.
Then keep your rifle close at hand. We soon shall have a riot.

A soldier's life is risky; it may end damn quick. Well, let it!
Since we get five francs every week we'll burst it when we get it.

You may cough and sneeze in your dug-out, but you can't go anywhere.
There's little health around the house—the dead are lying there.

You may dig as deep as a spade can dig, but the Boche's eye can tell
Where the khaki moles have plied their trade, and the beggars burrow well.

Pray to God when the dirt flies over and the country flops about,
But stick to your dug-out all the same until you're ordered out.

When guns are going large a bit and sending gifts from Krupp,
You've got to keep your napper low, but keep your spirits up.

These are the dug-out maxims which the “Old Sweats” fling about,
For the better education of the “rooky” newly out.