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Edward Dyson - Jam (A Hymn of Hate)
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What is meant by active service 
        `Ere where sin is leakin` loose, 
     `N` the oldest `and`s as nervis 
        As a dog-bedevilled goose, 
     Has bin writ be every poet 
        What can rhyme it worth a dam, 
     But the `orror as we know it 
        Is jist jam, jam, JAM! 
     Oh, the `ymn of `ate we owe it— 
Stodgy, splodgy, seepy, soaky, sanguinary 
       jam! 

     There`s the “fearful roar iv battle,” 
        What gets underneath yer `at, 
     Mooin` like a million cattle 
        Each as big as Ararat; 
     There`s the red field green `n` slippy 
        (And I`m cleaner where I am), 
     But the thing that`s got me nippy 
        It is jam, jam, JAM! 
     Druv us sour it has, `n` dippy, 
Sticky, sicky, slimy, sloppy, stummick-strafin` 
       jam! 

     Of the mud that`s in the trenches 
        Writers make a solemn fuss; 
     For the vermin `n` the stenches 
        Little ladies pity us; 
     But the yearn that`s honest dinkum, 
        `N` the prayer what ain`t a sham 
     Is that Fritz may bust `n` sink `em 
        Ships of jam, jam, JAM! 
     For we bolt `em, chew `em, drink `em, 
Million billion bar`ls of beastly, cloyin` 
       clammy jam! 

     We are sorry-sick of peaches, 
        `N` we`re full right up of plum, 
     `N` innards fairly screeches 
        When the tins of apple come. 
     Back of Blighty piled in cases, 
        Jist as close as they can cram, 
     Fillin` all the open spaces, 
        Is the `jam, jam, JAM! 
     Oh, the woe the soldiers face is, 
Monday, Sunday, ruddy, muddy, boundless 
       bogs of jam.
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