Near Martinpuich that night of hell Two men were struck by the same shell, Together tumbling in one heap Senseless and limp like slaughtered sheep. One was a pale eighteen-year-old, Blue-eyed and thin and not too bold, Pressed for the war not ten years too soon, The shame and pity of his platoon. The other came from far-off lands With bristling chin and whiskered hands, He had known death and hell before In Mexico and Ecuador. Yet in his death this cut-throat wild Groaned `Mother! Mother!` like a child, While the poor innocent in man`s clothes Died cursing God with brutal oaths. Old Sergeant Smith, kindest of men, Wrote out two copies and then Of his accustomed funeral speech To cheer the womanfolk of each:- "He died a hero`s death: and we His comrades of `A` Company Deeply regret his death: we shall All deeply miss so true a pal." SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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