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Edgar Guest - Tommy Atkins` Way
Work rating: Low

He was battle-scarred and ugly with the marks of shot and shell,
And we knew that British Tommy had a stirring tale to tell,
So we asked him where he got it and what disarranged his face,
And he answered, blushing scarlet: "In a nawsty little place."

There were medals on his jacket, but he wouldn`t tell us why.
"A bit lucky, gettin` this one," was the sum of his reply.
He had fought a horde of Prussians with his back against the wall,
And he told us, when we questioned: "H`it was nothing arfter h`all."

Not a word of what he`d suffered, not a word of what he`d seen,
Not a word about the fury of the hell through which he`d been.
All he said was: "When you`re cornered, h`and you`ve got no plyce to go,
You`ve just got to stand up to it! You cawn`t `elp yourself, you know.

"H`it was just a bit unpleasant, when the shells were droppin` thick,"
And he tapped his leather leggins with his little bamboo stick.
"What did H`I do? Nothing, really! Nothing more than just my share;
Some one h`else would gladly do it, but H`I `appened to be there."

When this sturdy British Tommy quits the battlefields of earth
And St. Peter asks his spirit to recount his deeds of worth,
I fancy I can hear him, with his curious English drawl,
Saying: "Nothing, nothing really, that`s worth mentioning at h`all."
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