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Robert W Service - Bill The BomberRobert W Service - Bill The Bomber
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The poppies gleamed like bloody pools through cotton-woolly mist; The Captain kept a-lookin` at the watch upon his wrist; And there we smoked and squatted, as we watched the shrapnel flame; `Twas wonnerful, I`m tellin` you, how fast them bullets came. `Twas weary work the waiting, though; I tried to sleep a wink, For waitin` means a-thinkin`, and it doesn`t do to think. So I closed my eyes a little, and I had a niceish dream Of a-standin` by a dresser with a dish of Devon cream; But I hadn`t time to sample it, for suddenlike I woke: "Come on, me lads!" the Captain says, `n I climbed out through the smoke. We spread out in the open: it was like a bath of lead; But the boys they cheered and hollered fit to raise the bloody dead, Till a beastly bullet copped `em, then they lay without a sound, And it`s odd we didn`t seem to heed them corpses on the ground. And I kept on thinkin`, thinkin`, as the bullets faster flew, How they picks the werry best men, and they lets the rotters through; So indiscriminatin` like, they spares a man of sin, And a rare lad wot`s a husband and a father gets done in. And while havin` these reflections and advancin` on the run, A bullet biffs me shoulder, and says I: "That`s number one." Well, it downed me for a jiffy, but I didn`t lose me calm, For I knew that I was needed: I`m a bomber, so I am. I `ad lost me cap and rifle, but I "carried on" because I `ad me bombs and knew that they was needed, so they was. We didn`t `ave no singin` now, nor many men to cheer; Maybe the shrapnel drowned `em, crashin` out so werry near; And the Maxims got us sideways, and the bullets faster flew, And I copped one on me flipper, and says I: "That`s number two." I was pleased it was the left one, for I `ad me bombs, ye see, And `twas `ard if they`d be wasted like, and all along o` me. And I`d lost me `at and rifle but I told you that before, So I packed me mit inside me coat and "carried on" once more. But the rumpus it was wicked, and the men were scarcer yet, And I felt me ginger goin`, but me jaws I kindo set, And we passed the Boche first trenches, which was `eapin` `igh with dead, And we started for their second, which was fifty feet ahead; When something like a `ammer smashed me savage on the knee, And down I came all muck and blood: Says I: "That`s number three." So there I lay all `elpless like, and bloody sick at that, And worryin` like anythink, because I`d lost me `at; And thinkin` of me missis, and the partin` words she said: "If you gets killed, write quick, ol` man, and tell me as you`re dead." And lookin` at me bunch o` bombs that was the `ardest blow, To think I`d never `ave the chance to `url them at the foe. And there was all our boys in front, a-fightin` there like mad, And me as could `ave `elped `em wiv the lovely bombs I `ad. And so I cussed and cussed, and then I struggled back again, Into that bit of battered trench, packed solid with its slain. Now as I lay a-lyin` there and blastin` of me lot, And wishin` I could just dispose of all them bombs I`d got, I sees within the doorway of a shy, retirin` dug-out Six Boches all a-grinnin`, and their Captain stuck `is mug out; And they `ad a nice machine gun, and I twigged what they was at; And they fixed it on a tripod, and I watched `em like a cat; And they got it in position, and they seemed so werry glad, Like they`d got us in a death-trap, which, condemn their souls! they `ad. For there our boys was fightin` fifty yards in front, and `ere This lousy bunch of Boches they `ad got us in the rear. Oh it set me blood a-boilin` and I quite forgot me pain, So I started crawlin`, crawlin` over all them mounds of slain; And them barstards was so busy-like they `ad no eyes for me, And me bleedin` leg was draggin`, but me right arm it was free. . . . And now they `ave it all in shape, and swingin` sweet and clear; And now they`re all excited like, but I am drawin` near; And now they `ave it loaded up, and now they`re takin` aim. . . . Rat-tat-tat-tat! Oh here, says I, is where I join the game. And my right arm it goes swingin`, and a bomb it goes a-slingin`, And that "typewriter" goes wingin` in a thunderbolt of flame. Then these Boches, wot was left of `em, they tumbled down their `ole, And up I climbed a mound of dead, and down on them I stole. And oh that blessed moment when I heard their frightened yell, And I laughed down in that dug-out, ere I bombed their souls to hell. And now I`m in the hospital, surprised that I`m alive; We started out a thousand men, we came back thirty-five. And I`m minus of a trotter, but I`m most amazin` gay, For me bombs they wasn`t wasted, though, you might say, "thrown away".
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