Tommy's Tunes revised (1917)

Home  |  Rakish Rhymer (1917)  |  Tommy's Tunes (1917)  |  Tommy's Tunes revised (1917)  |  Gordon 'Inferno' (1917-33)  |  What's New  |  Contact Us
 

Below is the raw OCR of Tommy's Tunes New and Revised Edition.  If you wish to verify the text below, please download the PDF of the scanned pages.

Tommy's Tunes
A comprehensive collection of
soldiers' songs, marching melo-
dies, rude rhymes, and popular
parodies, composed, collected,
and arranged on Active
Service with the B.E.F., by
F. T. Nettleingham, 2nd Lt.
R. F. C, and published by
Erskine Macdonald, Ltd.,
London :: :: W.C. 1.

DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO SANG AND
FOUGHT AND DIED,
To
You that have sung,
You that have laughed,
You that were happy
Amateurs at warcraft,
Amateurs all.
To
You that have cursed,
You that have prayed,
You that have joked,
And joking—were laid
Side by side,
Britons all.
Your songs were ribald,
Your rhymes were rude,
Your ditties doubtful,
Your quips quite crude,
But you fought,
Heroes all.
19x7.                                                             F.TJNT,

TOMMYS TUNES
A COMPREHENSIVE COLLECTION OF SOLDIERS'
SONGS, MARCHING MELODIES, RUDE RHYMES,
AND POPULAR PARODIES, COMPOSED,
COLLECTED, AND ARRANGED ON ACTIVE
SERVICE WITH THE B.E.F., BY F. T.
NETTLEINGHAM, 2nd LT. R. F. C.
New and Revised Edition.

ERSKINE MACDONALD, LTD.
LONDON, W.C. 1.

First Published, October, 1917.
Second and Revised Edition, November, 1917.
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright in the United States of America by
Erskine MacDonald, Ltd,
Printed by Harrison, Jehring & Co., Ltd., 11-15, Emerald St., W.0.1,

INTRODUCTION.
I am given to understand that some dear old ancient
with a taste for biographies once exclaimed that, if he
knew a people's songs, he could write their history.
I'm content to leave it at that, though for the sake of
those as dense and ignorant as myself, I would say
that I suppose he meant that a nation's songs and
other musical effort (and also literature) reveal the
actual character and culture of a nation in a way that
is unapproached by any other art or by rule of
thumb.
Now, in the light of the following effusions, perpetra-
tions—or even compositions, as some would wish them
to be called—I shall leave severely alone such a contro-
versial subject as Tommy's character, leaving it to my
reviewers to thresh out by process of elimination!
My hitherto unspoken wish is that this collection of
songs should be reviewed by none other than men with
Army experience,
" By their words shall ye know them," or " By your
words shall ye be judged," are parallel platitudes—yet
think, indulgent reader, how far from accurate would
be your judgment and idea of the British soldier were
you to draw conclusions solely on his songs ! You
would picture a man—yea, an army, nowadays, even
the nation—as lacking in esprit de corps, amour propre,
discipline, or any other of those wise soldierly qualities
5

without which no collection of free people could stand
the enormities of injustice and voluntary sacrifice
which are demanded over an extended and sustained
period by modern warfare. And you would be wrong I
It is a peculiarity of British humour to be derogatory
to its own dignity, to wipe itself in the mud, to affect
self-satire to an alarming extent. Yet woe betide any
foreigner who dares to opine we're not what we think
we are. The spirit really evinced by these songs, in
spite of their oft-times derogatory purport, is that of a
lofty cynicism and a confirmed fatalism, but real, thick,
unadulterated sarcasm—never.
Regarding the fatalistic tendency shown by Tommy
in all his speech and actions, this will be noticed irre-
spective of his philosophy—Tommy may be Romanist,
Protestant, Wesleyan, Atheist, Theosophist, or Agnostic,
yet one and all betray the same traits and the same
courage.
Although the great aim of this work is to present and
perpetuate the original and unwritten tunes and rhymes,
it must not be supposed that Tommy taboos any other
sort. Of course, the latest music-hall ditties, with
their swinging tunes, have a great vogue, but the enthu-
siasm soon wears off.
" Tipperary " was never greatly sung. I think it of
interest to place on record how this song has actually
stood in Tommy's estimation and in the favour of the
world. Notwithstanding that it is now sung over five
continents, and that our French friends—most of them
—have Tipperary at their finger tips, and most of the
street urchins andparigots sing it with equal exuberance
in French and English—it was never Tommy's song.
George Curnock, Daily Mail representative at Bou-
logne when the the first of Expeditionary Force troops

arrived, heard some of them singing it; new to him, as
to most of us, he mentioned it in his report. The pub-
lishers naturally seized on such publicity and boomed
for all it was worth a hitherto unknown and unwanted
song of such mediocre worth that it was like any other
of the hundred songs that appear and are sung by third-
rate artistes, and then disappear ; the couplet of which,
by the way, was a crib on " Has Anybody here seen
Kelly." In other words, it merely " happened " that
George Curnock heard " Tipperary " instead of another
equally popular, which the same troops started up a few
miles farther on.
Revenons & nos moutons, the Scotch have a repu-
tation for lilting refrains, the Welsh for being musical
enthusiasts and possessing good voices, but when all is
weighed up, there is little to choose between a British
crowd of soldiers from the three Kingdoms and Princi-
pality. The outstanding fact is that Scotch tunes
(only the Scotties know their words) are the most popular
and most often sung, and of them all, " Annie Laurie "
has queen of place.
I have heard " Annie Laurie " in peace and war;
at home and abroad ; in camp and on the march ; in
a big dining-hall with 300 men and no dinner, and for
all time I think it will remain the greatest, most pathetic,
soul-stirring refrain ever composed. When harmonised
by a hundred or more men unconducted, yet sung with
a tacit understanding of the necessities of musical light
and shade, it remains embedded in one's memory for
aye.
The only other tune that approaches it in popularity
or has the same possibility is the harmonised version of
" Home, Sweet Home." I lay great stress on the
" harmonised version/' In the first place, these songs
7

and chanties are always harmonised, and I should judge
that an average of one in five or six men can improvise
a harmony easily—and all harmony in the Army is
improvised. Most of the songs in this volume would
be will-o'-the-wisp creations were it not for their har-
monic rendering.
If a song is a success without harmony, you may be
reasonably sure that it is a dirge or in a monotone
style that fascinates by its sing-song tune to the extent
of pleasing some and grating others ; those whom it
grates, however, have short shrift. It is immediately
struck up for the discomfort of him who announced his
displeasure thereat, and the dirge drawls on till every-
one (metaphorically) reels under its (again metaphoric-
ally) anaesthetic influence.
In spite of enthusiasm for the new songs, the old,
as I have just remarked, are by no means discarded. ,
Harmonised choruses of " Ye Banks and Braes o'
Bonnie Doon," " Genevieve," " Swanee River/' " Dear
Old Joe," " Kentucky Home," " The Bonnie Banks o'
Loch Lomond," " White Wings," " Sweet Marie,"
" Clementine," " Beautiful Isle of the Sea," " Good Old
Jeff," " Silver Threads among the Gold," " Killarney,"
" Kathleen Mavourneen," " Bonnie Mary," etc., etc.,
and harmonised versions of Tosti's " Good-bye,"
" Until," " The Rosary," " Where my Caravan has
Rested," " There's a Long, Long Trail," " Somewhere a
Voice is Calling," "A Perfect Day," are effective and
pretty beyond words.
Although our soldiers do not have special tunes and
words for special work and actions, as used our sailors
with their chanties, or as have the Egyptian laborers to
this day, Tommy is, nevertheless, a great singer. Cer-
tainly so in quantity if not in quality.
S

The rendering and the presentment may be—and
usually is—crude, but surely we vie with our French
allies in the innumerable swinging ditties that tradi-
tion and circumstance keep as unwritten heirlooms of
our British Army and as souvenirs of forgotten
wars.
Of course, it was Tommy of the old Armies and the
Reservists who sang and whistled the most. The Terri-
torials who had had camp holidays ran him close, but the
New Army boys will now march for hours and miles
in a weary, hang-dog fashion without striking any one
of the scores of marching dirges that exist. Truly, the
character of war has changed.
Soldiers' songs may be divided up into two classes :
Route and Marching Songs, Camp or Concert Songs.
These may again be subdivided into original and
parodies. A further distinction could be made, though
it is scarcely necessary, as regards the parodies ; in
some cases both words and tunes have been lifted entire,
and merely the nouns and adjectives altered, producing
oft-times a bizarre effect and a violent change from
pathos to bathos.
Under original, I think, must be included the adapta-
tion of well-known tunes to original words, because the
metre or measure coincides.
Apology must be made for the very amateurish way
in which the special tunes are set down, without much
regard for the rudiments of musical practice. I trust
the public will understand the difficulty of collating
and editing such a collection of songs on Active Service,
and the still greater difficulty of putting the tunes to
paper on Active Service by one who has no aptitude in
that direction.
It will be noticed that well-known tunes or copyright
9

ones have been excluded, but all special or unique or
compound tunes have been included. In some cases
one tune is applied to three or four songs. One must
rarely expect to find continuity of subject or even a
connected sequence in a song of several verses. Many
of the allusions are irrelevant one to the other.
In those songs of the concert type there is apparent
a distinct desire to amuse, and although occasionally
persons and institutions are sarcastically or caustically
treated—local colour being invariably added—they
contain actually no more harm than the topical allusions
of a revue song.
In some cases the men take the opportunity for airing
a grievance in some such diplomatic and unable-to-be-
escaped-from manner. As a rule, leave, be it in England
or Overseas, provides an omnipresent subject.
It is important to remember that local colour is added
ad lib, Readers undoubtedly will find some verses to
differ more or less extensively from the particular
version known by them or sung in their crush.
These songs form a good dictionary as to Army vocabu-
lary and argot. Such words or phrases as :
Pukkah                          Proper, real;
Wallah                          A person, a foreigner (in a
domestic sense);
Pozzi                             Jam;
Compris (pron. compree) Understand—not under-
stood—as it should be ;
Fachi                            Sorry, angry, cross ;
No bon                          No good ;
Tres bon!                      Very good;
10

Jtg-a-jig                        Love;
Comme-ca I                   Like that;
Tout de suite (pron, Immediately ;
toot sweet)
are every hour terms with our soldiers in France and
elsewhere, and annotation and references will be found
where necessary, and have been retained by process
of elimination.
It is a great pity that a large number of the wittiest—
albeit, of a coarse kind—the gayest—as regards tune—
and most frequently sung—therefore popular—creations
are so untranslatable as to render them unprintable for
general consumption, but as some of them have un-
doubtedly been in the Army for more than 100 years,
it seems probable that they will remain unwritten heir-
looms for an indefinite period, and in peace-time will
be handed down through the generations by drummer-
boy to drummer-boy.
Soldier readers of this work will appreciate to what
extent I have purged some of their favourites, and
will appreciate all the more the reason I found it
impossible to present even a purged version of such
songs as are mentioned in the next paragraph.
With such songs as " Miralto Me Re," " Kafoosalem,
the harlot of Jerusalem," and " B. Bill the Sailor," it
is worth placing on. record for all time their titles,
though I doubt very much whether their rhyming lines
will ever find a rest in the British Museum.
I suppose I shall be inundated with new versions and
totally new songs on the appearance of this volume,
and I will earnestly ask all who intend telling me I've
omitted their own regimental song to also forward the
music or name of the tune, if well known, and they
11

shall be included in the next edition, unless " there ain't
going to be no next."
The large percentage of Aviation songs will be under-
stood and condoned when it is remembered that the
R.F.C. is the writer's corps, and also when gratitude is
here expressed to the Editor of Aeronautics for permis-
sion to publish all such songs as have appeared in that
excellent journal, and to whose prescience and encourage-
ment the public are partly indebted for the present
collection. My thanks are also due to the Editor of
Flying for permission to publish such Flying Corps
songs by me as have appeared lately in his journal,
Please send me any new ones to make the collection
more complete.
Frbdk. Thos. Netti,eingham,
2nd W. R.F.C,
6 Rue Chris tiania,
1916-X917.                                             Paris xviii.
12

NOTE TO SECOND EDITION.
I'm wondering what professional authors and collators
say and think when their publishers notify that they
must immediately reprint a book that made its bow
to an unexpectant world scarcely a fortnight before !
For myself, I feel flattered and rushed. Reviewers
have been so kind—bis dat, etc.—that I feel com-
pelled to address them a few remarks collectively.
It has been interesting to me to watch the different
songs that reviewers have quoted—it being enlightening
and a very instructive method of determining the
psychology of the men who can make or break a book.
Apparently what appealed to some, failed to appeal to
others, whilst some quoted what, to me, were the
duddest examples in the book ! A frequently quoted
one was " The Pilot's Psalm/' yet there have been
private protests from persons who have not read the
note against this example. As one who respects views
held conscientiously by members of any creed or sect,
I naturally would not wish to wound the susceptibilities
of others, but I can make a clear, logical case for the
inclusion of this item. On the other hand, I have been
the recipient of numerous objections, private and in
the press, against the exclusion of certain songs
because I maintain they are not suitable for publication
and have no merit (beyond being authentic), unless
there be merit in vulgarity of the coarsest kind. One
correspondent suggests that " with a little judicious
editing, the substitution of words of similar sound to
those regarded as blasphemous or obscene, and the
easeful use of blanks and parentheses, would render
13

possible an exhaustive collection." But too many
blanks would suggest a wastage of a valuable com-
modity.
The next point I would like to note is that not one
of the reviewers mentioned the prodigious quantity of
footnotes spread liberally over the pages, which give
much enlightenment to the uninitiated on current Army
argot and colloquy. I think I may claim that, together
with the songs, it is the first time that a glossary of
these terms has been printed, and that from a historical
view-point they are extremely valuable.
I asked a man back from the front this last week if
the boys out there sang as much as formerly. His
reply is illuminating : " No, they're too fed up."
We want to get the book out to the boys at the front
—it's they who need it, and will welcome it. I notice
with disappointment that, although a large number of
civvies will buy the book because it appeals to them
merely because its language is clear and, honest, the
" civvy Cuthbert " betrays little or at most an apathetic
interest in its contents. But on this and other matters
comment must be reserved for a third edition.
F.T.N.
Oct 2$th, 1917.
14

INDEX.
Apres la Guerre.......................•• ••••    3°
At the Halt, on the Left, form Platoon ............    30
Ally Sloper's Cavalree.................... —    44
Birdman, The ............................    6S
Boys/ Brigade............. ................    9°
Battle of Waterloo ........................    Qi
Cresol .................... ............    S4
Coal Fatigue............................    55
Call the Roll!! !............................    88
Divisional Rest............................    25
D'ye Ken Jan Smuts ? ........................    47
Dying Aviator, The........................    76
Down in the Valley ........................    82
" Excelsior " Up to Date         .... ................    74
Esprit de Corps............................    77
Fred Karno's Army ........................    42
Fusilier Chorus, A         .... .... .... .... .... ....    92
Grousing................................    26
Ginger is an Enemy of Mine .... .... ........ ....    46
Gallant R.N.D..................... .... ....    52
Grasshopper, The........................    54
Guillemont         ..... ..... ....................    $7
Greener Grows the Grass         .... .... ............    71
Green Grass Grew All Round, The ............ ....    80
Hiawatha............ ................    45?
Here We Are Again.................... ....    55
Hoo Ha-Hoo Ha Ha!.... ................. ....    56
I Don't Want to be a. Soldier................    $7
I Want to be in Blighty.... .........,..........    56
I'm so Bad ...........'.................    $7
I Want to Go Home........ ................    58
If It's a German—Guns Up 1 ....................    5$
John Brown's Baby .... .... .... ........ ....    g4
Kitchener's Army         ,....... .... ......,. ....    ^
little Bit of Fluff, The.... ........ .... .... ....    t$
La-I«a, I,a-I<a .... .... .... ........                           «i
«... .... ....         34
15

INDEX—continued.
?m,E                                                                                  pa&®
Left! Left! .................... ........    60
Looping the Loop .... .... .... .... .... ....    75
Little Dug-out in the West, The........ ........    93
Mechanic's Moan ........ .... .... .... ....    63
Mountains of Morne, The ........ ........ ....    63
Mechanic's Rosary ........ .... ........ ....    68
Man, the Dog, and the Meadow................    86
Never Mind ............................    28
Napoo—Fini ! !................ ............    71
No Quarter............ .................81
Ninety-nine Bottles on the Wall .... .... .... ....    89
Ode to Tickler............................    27
Our Little Wet Trench in the West .... .... .... ....    29
Old King Cole ............................    32
Omer Drome .... ........ .... .... .... ....    49
Our Essex Camp........................    51
Old Soldiers Never Die........................    58
Onward, Queen Victorias !........ ............    59
Our Jam .... .... ........ ........ .... ....    59
Old Man's Hammer, The ....................    60
Officers' Wives............................    63
Ode to the R.A.F. (Engine) ....................    70
Oh, Had I the Wings of an Avro ! ................    j6
Ohio............ .... ............ ....    84
Pilot's Psalm, The............ .............   62
Reason Why, The .... .... .... .... .... ....    27
Recruiting Parody No. 2 .... ............ ....    37
Rule, Britannia .................... ..... ....    41
Ragtime Army, The, R.F.C..................... ....    42
Ragtime Navy ............ .... .... .... ....    44
Rosary, The—Hospital Version ............. ....    62
Ragtime Flying Corps, The ......... .... ,.........    64
Ragtime Aircraft Builders ................... ....    66
R.F.C. Recruiting Song No. 1.............. .... ....    72
R.F.C Recruiting Song No. 2......................    73
16

IND EX—continued.
?!?%&                                                                                              PAGE
Ronnel McConnel ........................    9°
SMboo .... .... ...............• .........    22
Sing Me to Sleep ............ ............    24
Swanee River .............................    35
She was so Kind to Me........................    3^
Somme, The............................    56
Strafe on the Kaiser .... ....................    79
Seaforth's Sob ............................    8*
Tipperary................ ............    23
Tips................................    38
This is the Flying Corps ....................    45
Trench Parody, A ........................    48
They were Happy, Oh, so Happy................. 5°
The Gawdblimey Hat........................    93
When this Ruddy War is Over ................    21
Why Did We Join the Army ....................    36
We Are the Ragtime Army (Artists'O.T.C.)............    43
We Are the Ragtime Army (Anzac Version)............    43
Wail of the New Armies, The....................    45
We Are the Royal Sappers .... ................    45
Who Killed Cock Robin ? ....................    61
When They were Up, They were Up................    79
We are the Boys who Make no Noise........ ........    85
We are but Little Soldiers weak .... ............    92
Whiter than the Whitewash ....................    91
Your King and Country Need You ............ ....    3;
17                                               m

PARODIES INCLUDED.
PARODY SONG  NO.
Auld Lang Syne...* ................ ........      9
Back Home in Tennessee ............ ....         39,4°
Beautiful Baby Doll ................ ........    72
Bugle Call ............................    95
British Grenadiers .... .... .... .... .... ...    97
Come, My Lad, and be a Soldier ............ ....    19
Church's One Foundation, The         .... 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30
Dying Lancer, The .................... 80,81,82
Excelsior................ .... ........ ....    7$
Fol-the-Rol-Lol........................ ....    18
Holy, Holy, Holy ........................      7
Here's to the Maiden of Sweet Seventeen............    18
Hiawatha ............................    36
Here We Are, Here We Are, Here We Are Again ........    46
Here we go Gathering Nuts and May ........ ....    69
I Want to be in Dixie ........ .... .... •••. ■•••    48
I'm in Love ............ .... ........ •—    S1
I Want to go Home ........ .... .— •••• ••■•    52
If It's a Lady—Thumbs Up !....................    55
I Want to be an Angel .... .... ......•• ■— ••■•    68
John Peel............................    35
John Brown's Baby .... ............         41* 42» 43* 44
Kind Words Can Never Die ...............- ••••    53
Keep the Home Fires Burning.... .........— •■■•    75
Little Grey Home in the West.... ................    11
La-la, La-la, Sing this Chorus to me .... .... .... .....    14
Lowther Arcade, The ........ .... .... .... ....    Jj
Married to a Mermaid ........ .... .... .... ....    22
My Old Kentucky Home .... ............          37, 38
Michigan........ ................ ....    47
Moonlight Bay .... .... .... .... .... .... ....    50
Marching through Georgia .... ............ ....    57
18

PARODIES ' IISCLWWb^-continued.
PARODY                                                                                 SONG NO.
Mountains of Morne ........................ 65
My Mother's Rosary ........ ................ 7°
Never Mind ..................•......... IO
Old King Cole ............................ 15
Onward, Christian Soldiers.................... 56
Oh, see me Dance the Polka .... .... .... ........ 58
Oh! you Beautiful Doll          .................... 7*
Psalm, Twenty-third ............ ............ 63
Red, White and Blue......................... 13
Ragtime Cowboy Joe........ .... .... ........ 21
Rule, Britannia........ .... ................ 22
Rosary, The .... ..........,.........         62, 64
Sing Me to Sleep           ................ .... .... 5
Sweet Genevieve........ .... .... .... .... .... 8
Swanee River ............ ................ 16
Tipperary............ ........ ........3,4
There is a Happy Land....................          31,32
Ten Little Nigger Boys.... ........ .... ....          73,74
Tennessee................ .... ....         39, 40
We are but Little Children Weak........ ........ 33
Who Killed Cock Robin ? ............ .... .... 61
Your King and Country Need You .... ............ 20
Yankee Doodle ........................         B6f 87
19

NUMBERS OF SONGS IN WHICH THE FOLLOWING
REGIMENTS ARE MENTIONED:—
Anzacs, Song No. 28.
Artists' Rifles, Song Nos. 22, 27.
A.S.C., Song Nos. 6, 15.
A.S.C., M.T., Song Nos. 25, 29.
Guards, Song No. 14.
Queen Victoria's Rifles, Song No. 56.
Royal Engineers, Sappers, Song Nos. 24, 33, 34, 86.
Royal Flying Corps, Song Nos. 1, 10, 26, 32, 38, 39, 61, 63, 64,
65, 67, 68, 69, 7°> 7i> 72> 73, 75> 7<5, 77, 78» 79, 80, 81
82, 83.
Royal Fusiliers, Song No. 90.
R.N.A.S., Song No. 30.
R.N.D., Song 41.
Seaforth Highlanders, Song No. 86.
South Africans, Song No. 35.
10

i. WHEN THIS RUDDY WAR IS OVER.*

The following is the particular version sung in the R.F.C.
All these marching songs differ slightly, according to the Unit
singing, a little local colour being invariably added.
When this ruddy war is over,
O 1 how happy I shall be !
When this ruddy war is over
And we come back from Germany.
No more blooming kit inspection,
No more church parade for me.
When this ruddy war is over,
You can have your R.F.C.
When this ruddy war is over,
Oh ! how happy we shall be !
When this ruddy war is over
And we come back from Germany.
Roll on, when we go on furlough;
Roll on, when we go on leave,
Then well catch the train for Blighty,
Though we'll leave the girls bereaved.
* A favourite with the "old soldier."
21

2. SKIBOO,
Tune: Special.

Two German officers crossed the Rhine, Skiboo, Skiboo.
Two German officers crossed the Rhine, Skiboo, Skiboo.
These German officers crossed the Rhine
To love the women and taste the wine.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
They came to an inn on top of a rise, Skiboo, Skiboo,
A famous French inn of stupendous size, Skiboo, Skiboo,
They saw a maiden all dimples and sighs,
The two together said " Damn her eyes."
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair, Skiboo, Skiboo,
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair, Skiboo, Skiboo.
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair,
With lily-white arms and golden hair.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
Nein, nein, mem Herr, she's far too young, Skiboo,
Skiboo,
Nein, nein, mein Herr, she's far too young, Skiboo
Skiboo.
Mais non, mon pare, I'm not so young—
I've often been kissed by the farmer's son.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
22
2. SKIBOO*
Tune : Special.
Two German officers crossed the Rhine, Skiboo, Skiboo.
Two German officers crossed the Rhine, Skiboo, Skiboo.
These German officers crossed the Rhine
To love the women and taste the wine.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
They came to an inn on top of a rise, Skiboo, Skiboo,
A famous French inn of stupendous size, Skiboo, Skiboo,
They saw a maiden all dimples and sighs,
The two together said " Damn her eyes."
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair, Skiboo, Skiboo,
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair, Skiboo, Skiboo.
Oh, landlord, you've a daughter fair,
With lily-white arms and golden hair.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
Nein, nein, mein Herr, she's far too young, Skiboo,
Skiboo,
Nein, nein, mein Herr, she's far too young, Skiboo
Skiboo.
Mais non, mon pare, I'm not so young—
I've often been kissed by the farmer's son.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam.
22

S&iboo—cont,
The rest of the tale I can't relate, Skiboo, Skiboo,
For tho' it's old, it's up to date, Skiboo, Skiboo.
The story of man seducing a maid
Is not for you—you're too sedate.
Skiboo, Skiboo, Skiboodley boo, Skidam, dam, dam
A well-purged and diminutive version of a famous heirloom
of the British Army ; in its original state consists of about forty
verses.
3. TIPPERARY,
That's the wrong way to tickle Marie,
That's the wrong way to kiss :
Don't you know that over here, lad,
They like it better like this.
Hooray pour la France I
Farewell, Angleterre I
We didn't know the way to tickle Marie,
But now we've learnt how.
If ever you hear the air of Tipperary, it's almost certain
they'll be singing the above. A little episode illustrating the
fact that Tommy has made a conquest with the ladies of France
in a way after their own heart.
4. THE LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF.*
Tun^ : " Tipperary."
It took a long time to get it hairy,
'Twas a long time to grow ;
Took a long time to get it hairy,
For the toothbrush hairs to show.
Good-bye, Charlie Chaplin,
Farewell, tufts of hair ;
'Twas a long, long time to get it hairy,
But now my lip's quite bare.
* Popular about the time the W.O. rescinded its decision r$
moustaches,
23

5. SING ME TO SUSEP.
(Trench Version.)
Sing me to sleep where Very lights* fall,
I^et me forget the war and all.
I've got the wind up,f that's what they say,
God strafej 'em like hell—till break of day.
I feel so weary, warworn and sad,
I don't like this war—it makes me feel bad.
Dark is my dug-out—cold are my feet—§
Waiting for Boches to put me to sleep.
Far, far from Wipers]11 long to be,
Where German snipers can't snipe at me.
Take me to Egypt or Salonika,
Where I can hear of the Boche^f from afar.
Sing me to sleep where bullets fall,
Let me forget the war and all;
Damp is my dug-out, cold are my feet,
Nothing but bully and biscuits to eat.
Sing me to sleep where bombs explode
And shrapnel shells are a la mode ;
Over the sandbags, helmets you'll find :
Corpses in front of you, corpses behind.
Far from the starlights I'd love to be,
Lights of old London I'd rather see ;
Think of me crouching where worms creep,
Waiting for someone to put me to sleep.
* A species of flare fired from a pistol, named after their inventor.
t To" have the wind up "is to have'* cold feet" ; afraid, nervy.
{ To punish—a by now permanent word in the [English language.
§ Another reference to fear which might also have a more
literal significance.
j| " Wipers " refers to Ypres, also called Epray.
If German.
As a point of interest I will give to the uninitiated other
instances of current war phraseology :—
£," Hot Air."—Much ado about nothing ; to have plenty of
24

6. DIVISIONAL REST.*
Tune : Special.
So when we came up for the first time
We had such a pain in our chest.
We'd had umpteenf drills and inspections,
And they called it Divisional Rest.
And when we came up for the second time,
Captain Tickler and A.S.C. men
Had been sending home their old horseshoes
To thicken his father's jam.
And when we came up for the third time,
We were told there was something anew :
All the cooks in the company
Could cook something else than stew.
And when we came up for the fourth time,
We said, " Strike me pink, Gawd blimey " :
We were told a Colonial soldier
Had saluted the G.O.C.J
sing ME TO Si,EEP—continued.
go ; to be officious ; to give instructions which others consider
superfluous, or are disinclined to carry out.
" Eyewash."—Originated owing to " Eyewitness " stories
or despatches at the beginning of the war; applied to most
circular memoranda received, particularly about wearing of
slacks or Sam Brownes, saluting, or economisation of petrol;
something to be winked at.
" Swinging the I/Ead."—To swing the lead is to malinger or
to feign—thus, a lead swinger is really a malingerer or a shirker ;
to be sent on a job and not do it is to " swing the lead." When
in hospital, to make one's ailments or wounds more serious than
they really are is to " swing the lead " on the Doctor. Needless
to add, it bears no relation to that other vulgar metaphor—"to
throw one's weight about " !
/' Hot-stuffed."— Stolen. To hotstuff — to steal, pinch,
lift, or to appropriate by other than rightful procedure. A hot-
stuff er—one who steals.
DIVISIONAI, REST.
* When regiments are withdrawn from the line.
t Any number, too numerous to count.
% Refers to slackness in saluting by Colonial soldiers.
25

7. GROUSING.
Tunis: " Holy, Holy, Holy"
Grousing, Grousing, Grousing,
Always blooming well grousing.
Roll on till my time is up,
And I shall grouse no more.
Grousing, Grousing, Grousing,
Always blooming well grousing.
Roll on till my time is up,
And I shall grouse no more.
Raining, Raining, Raining,
Always bally well raining.
Raining all the morning,
And raining all the night.
Raining, Raining, Raining,
Always bally well raining.
Roll on till my time is up,
And I shall grous i no more.
Marching, Marching, Marching,*
Always ruddy well marching.
Marching all the morning,
And marching all the night.
Marching, Marching, Marching,
Always ruddy well marching.
Roll on till my time is up,
And I shall march no more.
* I have heard of this being sternly suppressed by company
commanders, where men have spent long hours on the march,
as being detrimental to good discipline
m

8. ODE TO TICKWSR.*
Tune : " Sweet Genevieve J1
Oh, jam for tea ! Oh, jam for tea,
I'm jolly sure it don't suit me ;
I've tried for years, and now in tears,
111 sing it to you mournfully.
Oh, jam for tea ! Oh, jam for tea !
The world knows how you've tortured me ;
I've frills and squills, you've made me bills,
And filled the dentists' empty tills,
Oh, jam for tea ! Oh, jam for tea !
Fried bully f and Maconochie ; J
But when we get back to Blighte-e-e-e....
We will have ham and lamb for tea.
* Jam maker to the Army.
f Bully beef—otherwise corned beef.
% The maker's name : a tinned food issued to Tommy, con-
sisting usually of tinned tomatoes, haricots, potatoes, some sort
of meat, usually fat, and some shiny stuff that might be gravy
or jelly.
9. THE REASON WHY.
Tuns : " Auld Lang Syne."
We're here because we're here,
Because we're here Because we're here.
We're here because we're here,
Because we're here, Because we're here.
Oh, here we are, oh, here we are,
Oh, here we are again.
Oh, here we are, oh, here we are,
Oh, here we are again.
And so on, until exhausted.
27

io. NEVER MIND,*
(New Version.)
Though your heart may ache awhile, never mind,
Though your heart may ache awhile, never mind,
You'll forget about it soon,
When youVe had a good old spoon,
And your heart, it aches no more, never mind.
If the Sergeant's pinched your rum—never mind,
If the Sergeant's on the bumf—never mind.
If he collars all your fags, and you've nothing on but rags,
It's his affair—not yours—so never mind.
If the Sergeant says your daft—never mind.
Maybe you are—who knows ?—never mind.
It's no use to answer back, 'cos he won't stand any slack,J
So if he says you're daft—then you are.
The following has reference to a certain R.F.C. sergeant, who
went to fetch rations in a sidecar, the light tender usually em-
ployed for this purpose being otherwise engaged. Not being
able to get it all in, he tied the bread round the side and back.
When he arrived at the unit, not unnaturally the bread was
" napoo."§
At lunch-time you might have heard a serenade to the
following effect:
If the Sergeant's lost your bread—never mind.
If he sticks it round a side car—never mind.
And even if it's messed—he did it for the best,
For he's the Sergeant—dontcherknow—so never mind,
* This song, with its many verses, shows Tommy as a con-
firmed fatalist.
f On the borrow.
% Cheek.
§ " Napoo "—Tommy's version of " II n'y-a plus ; " used in
divers senses, usually to say : no more ; not there ; gone.
Used in the same sense as Vamoosed.
28

ii. OUR LITTLE WET TRENCH IN THE WEST.
Tune: "Little Grey Home in the West"
In a little wet trench in the west,
Where the Germans cannot get at me,
It's not very grand, and we most of us stand,
And the only good thing is our tea.
Over there where the great big shells fall,
The Huns are afraid of us—lest
We should bayonet them with true British phlegm,
Should they visit our home in the west.
There are hands that will welcome them out,
There are guns that are waiting to fire,
There are eyes that look out for a chance of a bout,
Though we're up to our eyes in the mire.
It's a hell upon earth for us all,
But we mean to be first on the ball.
When the kick-off takes place, well be first in the race,
From our little wet trench in the west
There are dug-outs and other things new,
Funk-holes, trench mortars, bombs and grenades,
The only thing hot is our ration of stew,
Don't we wish we were back at our trades ?
Never mind—we're out on the job,
Though we're not paid at Union Rates,
Oh ! we shan't rest content till we've made a big dent
In another wet trench in the west.
Flanders, 1914.

12, APRES LA GUERRE.

Apres la guerre fini,
Oh, well go home to Blighty ;
But won't we be sorry to leave chere Germaine,
Apres la guerre fini.
Apres la guerre fini,
English soldier parti,
Mam'selle frangais beaucoup picanninies,
Apres la guerre fini.
This song, which has several more verses, is a great favourite.
Its original air is " Sous les Fonts de Paris." The pidgin French
is typical of the way Tommy and the natives converse. I blush
to say that Tommy sings this at his best when passing through
a small village.
13. AT THE HALT, ON THE LEFT, FORM
PLATOON.
Tune : " Red, White and Blue."
At the halt, on the left, form platoon,
At the halt, on the left, form platoon,
If the odd numbers don't mark time two paces,
How the hell can the rest form platoon ?
SO

14. LA-LA, LA-LA.
Tune ; " La-la, La-la, sing this Chorus to tne."
La-la, La-la, there's going to be some fun,
La-la, La-la, Tommy's got his gun.
When he gets at the end of it,
He won't forget to shoot and hit.
La-la, La-la, the Hun is on the run.
One, two, three—it fills us with delight
To see the Boches fall.
Four, five, six—with all your main and might,
We're going to shift the Hun from off the ball.
La-la, La-la, there's going to be some fun,
La-la, La-la, the Boche is on the run.
When he sees the steel and bit,
He promptly hides and has a fit.
La-la, La-la, we've got them on the run.
Seven, eight, nine, it fills us with delight
To see the Boches fall.
Ten, eleven, twelve, you should see them dig and delve,
We're just spoiling for a brawl.
La-la, La-la, this will not be fun,
La-la, La-la, we're running short of rum.
When we get to the end of it,
We shan't forget to grouse a bit.
La-la, La-la, we shall blame the sergeant some.
Now, mark my word, it fills us with delight
To drink our tot of rum.
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah 1 we'll all get tight
The day that rum does come.
The Guards (Ypres, 1914).
$1

15. OLD KING COLE.
(A.S.C. Version.)
Old King Cole was a merry old soul
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and called for his bowl
And he called for his Privates three.
Now every private had a great thirst,
And a very great thirst had he,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!!! I" said the privates,
Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Sergeants three.
Now every sergeant had a loud voice,
And a very loud voice had he,
'' Move to the right in fours,'' said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!! [!" said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Subalterns three.
Now every subaltern had a big grouse,
And a very big grouse had he.
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,
" Move to the right in fours/' said the sergeants,

Old King Cole—coni.
" Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!!! I" said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Captains three.
Now every captain had a fine figure,
And a very fine figure had he,
" We want three months' leave," said the captains,
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,"
" Move to the right in fours/ said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer 1!!! " said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his adjutants three.
Now every adjutant had a pair of fine spurs,
A pair of very fine spurs had he.
" Where the hell's my horse ? " said the adjutant,
""We want three months' leave," said the captains,
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,
" Move to the right in fours," said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer !! Beer!! I Beer 111!" said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
33                                                     «i

Old King Cole—cont.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Majors three.
Now every major had a big swear,
And a very big swear had he.
" Blankety, Blankety, Blank," said the major,
" Where the hell's my horse," said the adjutant,
" We want three months* leave," said the captains,
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,
" Move to the right in fours," said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer I!! Beer HI! " said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Colonels three.
Now every Colonel had a sore head,
And a very sore head had he.
" What's the next word of command ? " said the
Colonel,
" Blankety, Blankety, Blank," said the major,
" Where the hell's my horse ? "said the adjutant,
" We want three months' leave," said the captains,
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,
" Move to the right in fours," said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer I!! Beer!!!! " said the privates*
" Very merry men are we,
" For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
34

Old King Cole—cont,
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he,
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl
And he called for his Generals three.
Now every general had two red tabs,
And two red tabs had he.
" What's the plan of campaign ? " said the general,
" What's the next word of command ? " said the
colonel,
" Blankety, Blankety, Blank," said the major,
" Where the hell's my horse ? " said the adjutant,
" We want three months' leave," said the captains,
" We do all the work," said the subalterns,
" Move to the right in fours," said the sergeants,
" Beer! Beer!! Beer!!! Beer!!!!" said the privates,
" Very merry men are we,
For there's none so fair as can compare
With the boys of the A.S.C."
16. SWANEE RIVER.
(Paris Version.)
Walking up and down the Champs Elysees,*
That's what we like;
Oh I- you should see lafemme—how she eyes us
With " boko" f admiration %—so says Mike.
If the war is sad and dreary,
Nought we know of that;
We all know a demoiselle so cherie,
Also her charming little flat.
* To be pronounced as in English.
f Beaucoup—much.
| Pronounce as in French.
35

17. SHE^WAS SO KIND TO ME,
Tune : Special.

She was so good and so kind to me
And all the rest of the family ;
She was so good and so kind to me,
She was, she was, she was.......
.... So good and so kind to me, etc,
18. WHY DID WE JOIN THE ARMY ?
Tuns : " Here's to the Maiden of Sweet Seventeen"
and " Fol-the-Rol-LoL"
Why did we join the Army, boys ?
Why did we join the Army ?
Why did we come to Salisbury Plain ?—
We must have been ruddy well balmy*
Fol-the-rol-lol, fol-the-rol-lol,
Fol-the-rol-lol, me laddie;
Fol-the-rol-lol, fol-the-rol-lol,
Fol-the-rol-lol, me laddie,

if. I DON'T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER,
Tune : " Come, my lad, and be a Soldier,**
I don't want to be a soldier,
I don't want to go to war ;
I'd rather roam
Here at home,
And keep myself on the earnings of a lady typist.
I don't want a bayonet in my stomach,
Nor my eyelids shot away,
For I am quite happy
With my mammy and my pappy—
So I wouldn't be a soldier any day.
20. RECRUITING PARODY No. 2.
Tune : " Your King and Country Need You"
For we don't want your loving,
And we think you're awfully slow
To see that we don't want you,
So, please, won't you go.
We don't like your sing-songs,
And we loathe your refrain,
So don't you dare to sing it
Near us again.
Now, we don't want to hurry you,
But it's time you ought to go;
For your songs and your speeches
They bore us so.
Your coaxings and pettings
Drive us nigh insane :
Oh ! we hate you, and'll boo you and hiss you
If you sing it again.
A typical parody on the recruiting songs, with which the
•oldiers—and slackers and everyone else—were soon fed up.
See also " Your King and Country need you.'*
W

2i, TIPS.
Tune : " Ragtime Cowboy Joe"
Wlien you've landed in the country,
And you're fed up with the train,
Don't think your troubles finished,
For they will follow in a chain ;
So keep your faces smiling
When the billet meets your eye,
You all expected different,
But to sleep you'll surely try.
When reveille breaks your slumber,
To wash your thoughts will jump ;
But no blessed water can you get,
There's no handle on the pump.
But streams there are in plenty,
So your Christian ways redeem ;
But take care you don't fall in one—
Things are not always what they seem.
If the language you go in for,
It will play you funny pranks,
But the language most convincing
Is the colour of five francs.
Then you patronise Estaminets,
And you learn to drink the beer,
It has redeeming features,
For it never makes you queer.
You will try to Parley-voo,
With one and all you see,
And you get some nasty shocks,
When they tell you: "Me no compree."*
So you drop back on good old English,
And swear like a Spanish Don,
$$

Tips—cont.
Then smack your lips o'er the beer you drink,
And say this, " Tres Bon."
When with rats and lice tormented,
For the trenches you declare,
Don't think your troubles left behind,
They'll follow everywhere,
So like the old Crusader,
With a helmet on your head,
You march in full equipment,
And wish the Kaiser dead.
On arrival in the trenches,
Just keep your head down tight,
And remember that to show yourself
Is asking for " Good-night."
When home no doubt you grumbled,
If they hadn't made your bed,
But you'll be lucky in the dug-out
To find a place to rest your head.
When walking through the trenches,
You off the boards do slip ;
Don't pretend you did it purposely,
As you dearly loved a dip.
When you're out upon patrol work,
And a flare lights up the sky,
Be sure to He quite flat and still,
Or for you young Fritz will try.
When you cook upon the brazier,
And your pals come round to talk,
Don't let the captain catch you
Using bayonet as toasting fork.
Your helmet, too, was issued
From shrapnel fire to save you,
m

Tips—cont.
So don't think it is a saucepan,
To be used for making " Gippo/'f
When worn out with making gooseberries,
And you wish it all in------,
Don't curse the Sergt.-Major,
If " Stand to " he has to yell.
Just the same with all your rations.
When the bread is rather bare,
Don't curse the Quartermaster ;
Some day you 11 have your share.
And when back again in billets,
Although people may prove kind,
You'll ne'er see a damsel half so nice
As the one you left behind.
* This is not the natives' pidgin English or Tommy's pidgin
French, but a real sample of the atrocious French spoken by
some of the peasants and villagers with whom our troops find
themselves ; also, it is not patois-—that they speak fluently.
" Me no allez " is also often heard. No grammar exists in the
French of these people. You will often be addressed as^ follows :
" Vols la la-bas boutique no bon 1'autre tres bon, mademoiselle
tres jolie."
f Soup, ragout
Gippo, which comes from the Arabic, is merely one of many
such words incorporated in Army parlance by the British Army*
long association with the Orient. Pozzi—jam ; wallah-—a
person * pukkah—proper, real, genuine, are a few of the com-
monest.
In this parody, as usual, the Sergeant-Major, food and girls
form good topics for a rhyme.

22. RULE, BRITANNIA.

Rule, Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,
Britons never, never, never shall be
M-a-r-r-i-e-d to a mermaid at the bottom of the deep
blue sea.
Hoch ! Hoch ! mein Gott!
What a damned fine lot
Are the Artists' O.T.C.
This, as will be seen, is a mad medley of three tunes.
23. ONE MORE RIVER.
Tune : Special.
One more river,
One more river to Jordan ;
One more river,
One more river to cross.
The animals went in two by tw@,
One more river to cross ;
The elephant and the kangaroo,
One more river to cross.
One more river,
One more river to Jordan ;
One more river,
One more river to cross.
Etc., Etc*
41

24. FRED KARNO'S ARMY.
(R.E. Version.)
Tune: " The Church's One Foundation"
We are Fred Karno's Army,
A jolly fine lot are we :
Fred Karno is our Captain,
Charlie Chaplin our O.C.
And when we get to Berlin,
The Kaiser he will say :
Hoch! Hoch! mein Gott!
What a jolly fine lot
Are the 2-4th R.E., T.
25.    KITCHENER'S ARMY.
(A.S.C., M.T. Version.)
Tune : " The Church's One Foundation"
Oh ! we're in Kitchener's Army,
We are the A.S.C.
We cannot fight, we cannot shoot,
So what earthly use are we ?
And when we get to Berlin,
The Kaiser he will say :
" Hoch ! Hoch ! mein Gott!
What a blooming fine lot
To draw six bob a day.
26.    THE RAGTIME ARMY.
Tune : " The Church's One Foundation"
We are the Ragtime Army,
We are the R.F.C.
We do not fight, we cannot fly,
So what earthly use are we ?
And when we get to Berlin
The Kaiser he will say,
"Hoch! Hoch! mein Gott I
What a blooming fine lot
Are the boys of the R.F.C."
42

27. WE ARE THE RAGTIME ARMY,
Tune : " The Church's One Foundation"
We are the Ragtime Army,
The Artists' O.T.G.
We cannot drill, we cannot shoot,
What earthly use are we ?
And when we've- got to Berlin
The Kaiser he will say :
"Hoch! Hoch! mein Gott!
What a damned fine lot
Are the Artists' O.T.C."
28. ANZAC VERSION.
Tune : " The Church's One Foundation"
We are the Ragtime Army,
The A.N.Z.A.C.'s,
We do not shoot, we won't salute,
What bally use are we ?
And when we get to Berlin,
The Kaiser he will say :
Hoch I Hoch! mein Gott!
What a fine jolly lot
Are the A.N.Z.A.C.'s.
We are the only heroes
Who stormed the Dardanelles,
And when we get to Berlin
They'll say, " What bally sells/5
You boast and spite from morn till night
And think you're very brave,
But the men who really did the job
Are dead and in their graves,
43

«9- ALLY SLOPER'S CAVALREE,
Tune : " The Church* s One Foundation"
We are the Mechanical Transport,
The M.T., A.S.C.,
We cannot march, we cannot fight,
What earthly good are we ?
And when we get to Berlin,
The Kaiser, he will say,
" Hoch ! Hoch ! mein Gott I
What a blooming rotten lot
Ally Sloper's Cavalree. *
We are the Mechanical Transport,
The Empty Cavalree,
We never march, we never fight,
What earthly use are we ?
And when we get to Berlin,
Old Kaiser Bill will say,
Hoch! Hoch! mein Gott!
What a------rotten lot
To get six bob a day.f
* Derived from the initial letters of A.S.C.
f Refers to men specially enlisted on outbreak of war, who
got six shillings a day.
30. THE RAGTIME NAVY.
Tune : " The Church's One Foundation.**
We are the Ragtime Navy,
R.N.A.S. are we.
We cannot fight, we cannot shoot,
What b—— good are we?
And when we get to Berlin,
The Kaiser he will say:
Hoch ! Hoch ! mein Gott 1
What a b—— fine lot
To earn four bob a day*
44

31. THE WAIL OF THE NEW ARMIES,
Tune : " There is a Happy Land."
Where are our uniforms ?
Far, far away.
When will our rifles come ?
P'raps, pr'aps some day.
And you bet we shan't be long
Before we're fit and strong,
You'll hear us say, " Oui, out, tres bong/'
When we're far away,
32. THIS IS THE FLYING CORPS.
Tune : " There is a Happy Land"
This is the Flying Corps,
So people say,
Where air mechanics lay the drains
For two bob a day.
Oh ! you should hear them sing,
" Roll on when my four* is in,
Then back home my hook I'll sling,
And there I'll stay.
* Refers to men enlisted for four years or four years m
th« reserve,
33. WE ARE THE ROYAL SAPPERS.
Tune : " We are but Little Children Weak"
We are the Royal Sappers, we,
We only earn five bob a week.
The more we work
The more we may—
It makes no difference to our pay.
u

34. GINGER IS AN ENEMY OF MINE.
Tune: Special.

He's an enemy of mine,
He's an enemy of mine :
We haven't seen old Ginger
For quite a hell of a time.
Just like a bee,
Always on the bumble,
Up and down the line
To see what he can rumble.
We haven't seen old Ginger
For umpteen blooming years,
For Ginger is a major in the Royal Engineers.

35-■ D'YE KEN JAN SMUTS ?
Tune : " John Peel"
D'ye ken Jan Smuts when he's out with his gun,
D'ye ken Jan Smuts with his foes on the run,
D'ye ken Jan Smuts when he's hunting the Hun,
With his Horse and his Foot in the morning ?
Chorus :
For the Kaiser he started the whole bloomin' war,
So we'll strafe old Bill till he swanks no more,
And the King shall be boss where the Hun was before,
When we haul up the flag in the morning.
And I'll follow Jan Smuts wheresoever I am,
For the swamp and the jungle I don't care a damn,
From Kilimanjaro to Dar-es-Salaam,
Till we haul up the flag in the morning.
So here's to Jan Smuts, with three British cheers,
We wouldn't half smile if the toast was in Beers.
But mind that no bloomin' old submarine hears,
Or we'll wake up in heaven in the morning.
A popular parody sung on transports proceeding to German
East Africa.
36. HIAWATHA.
(Gaujpou Version.)
When the moon shines bright on Charlie Chaplin,
He's going balmy
To join the Army ;
And his old baggy trousers want a-mending
Before they send him
To the Dardanelles.
> It will be noticed that Mr. Chaplin is a frequently mentioned
individual, in one case attaining the dignity of a CO.
47

37- A TRENCH PARODY.
Tune : " My Old Kentucky Home"
I've lost my Lattey sight!
Can't fire a shot at night I
There's something scaring me ;
Through all my plates I see
A German snipers' post
Ten yards away at most!
Boche rifles sticking through
From every point of view 1
Chorus i.
I've a windy feeling round my heart
And I want to burrow down,
To get my gun and have a run
To dear old London town.
You can keep your sniperscopes—
Just give me telescopes
Pushed through grasses,
And my glasses.
But I'm frightened to death to know
That I must stay right here,
For I badly want to stroll,
For it seems to me
'Tain't no jubilee
In this sanguinary hole.
Chorus 2.
I've a joyful feeling round my heart,
For the Boche has fallen down !
I'll shut my plate or I'll be late
For dear old London town.
You can keep your sniperscope :
Just give me one good hope
48

Trench Parody-^wJ.
Of boat and Blighty ;
No more fighty—
I'll be tickled to death to know
That when I once get there
I can chuck my pack away !
Come along, you boys,
Make a deuce, of a noise,
Fill a bumper to (( The Day,"
38. OMER DROME.*
Tune : " My Old Kentucky Home"
I've got a windy feeling round my heart
And it's time that we went home,
I've got a great big longing to depart
Somewhere back to Omer Drome.
Huns are diving at my tail,
Wind up—Gee !—I've got a gale.
Guns are jamming, f
Pilots damning, %
Archies! bursting all around us.
And observers say,
*' Ain't it time that we came down."
So won't you splitassll back
Along the track
To my dear old Omer Town.
* St. Omer.
t A frequent occurrence.
j A more frequent occurrence.
§ Anti-aircraft guns.
|[ Stunt flying, or in a reckless manner. The expression " a
splitass merchant " is applied indiscriminately to a reckless
individual or to a really good flyer capable of executing stunts
with a modicum of safety,
49                                              x>

39* THEY WERE HAPPY, OH i SO HAPPY.
Tune : " Back Home in Tennessee."
They were happy, Oh! so happy
When they left Germany
To fly across the sea—
No danger did they see.
The men and guns were ready for the Huns
When they got to Cuffley Town.
And what a light and what a sight
When we brought it to the ground.
Chorus :
Their home in Germany,
That Zepp will never see.
Count Zeppelin on his knees,
He thought the world of these.
All he could think of that night
Were the searchlights shining bright.
Guns were whizzing—crowds were hissing—
That Zepp was soon alight.
The people at their doors then shouted
out encores
When an airman brought it down
In a field near Enfield Town.
We'd been prepared to meet it,
Just imagine how we cheered it,
When it came down,
When it came down,
To its doom near London Town.
For the station crowds were making,
All a merry band.
They ail thought it was grand,
They shook Robinson's hand.
50

They were Happy—coni.
The King soon heard and he sent word
The V.C. he had won.
And we're all glad and proud of the lad,
For his duty he has done.
Chorus:
Their home in Germany, etc.
Written and composed by Ptes. Sunderland and Fleet,
A.S.C., M.T.
40. OUR ESSEX CAMP.
Tune : " Back Home in Tennessee J*
Down in our Essex camp,
That's where we get the cramp
Through sleeping in the damp ;
We're not allowed a lamp.
All we get there each day
Is left, right, left, right, all the way ;
Sergeants calling, lance-jacks* bawling
" Get out on parade."
We go to bed at night,
You ought to see the sight,
The earwigs on the floors
All night are forming fours.
If we're in bed in the morning,
You will hear the sergeant yawning :
" Show a leg there, show a leg "there,"
'Way down in our Essex camp.
* I<aiice-corp«>ral&.
m

41. THE GA1XANT R.N.D.*
Tune: "John Brown's Baby "
Im going to sing a song about the gallant R.N.D.,
The lads who're in the Army though they ought to be
at sea;
Wherever they may send us matters nought to you or me,
We'll just go marching along.
Chorus :
Why don't they send us back to Blighty ?
Why don't they send us back to Blighty ?
Why don't they send us back to Blighty ?
For they don't want the R.N.D.
We've got some lovely washhouses with water taps galore,
There's a trough right down the middle, and there's
basins by the score,
We can always get a decent wash—if we turn out at four,
So we all turn out at four.
Three times a day the bugle sounds the ever-welcome
call,
One by one we march into the great big dining hall,
We always get a dinner, and although it may be small,
Gott strafe maconochie ! f
When you want to see the doctor, you're not feeling
very fine,
Maybe it's your liver got entangled with your spine,
You're asked the usual questions and given a number
nine, J
Then back to work you go.
m

Gallant R.N.D.—con*.
We've got a recreation ground where we go out to play,
The bull ring is the name of it; we go there every day ;
We practise killing Germans, though they're only stuffed
with hay,
With the long point, short point—jab !
When we dodge the bull ring we are marching to and fro,
Sloping arms by numbers we've forgotten long ago,
Instead of teaching us the things we really ought to know,
As a sentry we will stand at ease.
We have a kit inspection§ when there's nothing else to do,
You get a grand court-martial if you lose your four by
two, If
For the people at the War Office they seem to take the
view
That that's the way to win the war.
We never do a grumble now, wherever we are sent,
Though I'd sooner be in bed than sleeping fifteen in
a tent ;||
Of course we could take thirty men if they were slightly
bent,
And pile them on two deep.
* Royal Naval Division.
■f The maker's name of a tinned concoction consisting of .
meat, potatoes, beans, tomatoes, parsnips, and various other
things—makes a pretty sort of Irish stew. Variously pronounced
mac-onoch-y, or more often ma-cono-chy.
J A pill given as opening medicine ; a cure for all ills.
§ Tommy's bane, as mentioned elsewhere.
If Calico 4 ins. by 2 ins., used asa" pull through " for cleaning
the bores of rifles, etc.
U Twelve to 15 men in a tent is only too common.
68

42. THE GRASSHOPPER.
Tune: "John Brown's Body."
One grasshopper jumped right over another grass-
hopper's back,
And another grasshopper jumped right over the other
grasshopper's back,
A third grasshopper jumped right over the two grass
hoppers' backs,
Whilst a fourth grasshopper jumped over all the other
grasshoppers' backs.
We were only playing leapfrog,
We were only playing leapfrog,
We were only playing leapfrog,
Whilst the other grasshopper jumped right over the
other grasshopper's back.
43. JOHN BROWN'S BABY.
Tune: "John Brown's Body J'
John Brown's baby's got a pimple on his—sh'sh !
John Brown's baby's got a pimple on his—sh'sh 1
John Brown's baby's got a pimple on his—sh'sh !
And we all went marching home.
Glory, glory, Allelulia,
Glory, glory, Allelulia,
Glory, glory, Allelulia,
And we all went marching home.
44. CRESOL (The famous Army disinfectant).
Tune: "John Brown's Body."
Oh, we'll sprinkle ihem with Cresol,
Oh, we'll sprinkle them with Cresol,
Oh, we'll sprinkle them with Cresol,
And they shall fight no more.
54

45- HERE WE ARE AGAIN.
Tune : Special.

Here we are, Here we are, Here we are again,
Here we are, Here we are, Here we are again.
We beat them on the Marne,
And whacked them on the Aisne,
We smashed them up at Neuve Chapelle,
And we're ready here again.
The references to certain battle areas are too obvious to
need explanation.
46. COAL FATIGUE.
Tune : " Here we are, Here we are, Here we are
again"
Coal Fatigue, Coal Fatigue, Coal Fatigue again.
Forty tons of coal to be shifted a day
(Gawd blimey!)
Get your pick and shovel; do it at the double ;
Are we downhearted ?—no ; let it all come.
Coal Fatigue, Coal Fatigue, Coal Fatigue again,
It'd be enough to kill Kaiser Bill.
For if you get your dinner, it's a cert you are a winner,
So Coal, Coal, Coal Fatigue again.
Coal fatigue in a big camp during winter is a very distasteful
job, especially in the mud of Salisbury Plain or the Curragh.
55

47- THE SOMME.
Tune ; " Michigan''
I want to go back, I want to go back,
I want to go back to the Somme.
That's where I've come from
With a souvenir bit of a bomb.
I miss old Archie,
And Pont de l'Arche.
And 111 wake at 4 a.m.
I think your demoiselles are very pretty.
Nevertheless, I want to be there,
I want to hit there
A certain someone with a bomb.
That's why I wish again that I was back again,
Down on the Somme.
48. I WANT TO BE IN BLIGHTY.
Tune : " I want to be in Dixie."
I want to be—I want to be—
I want to be back home in Blighty,
From where the Huns are dog-gone glad to pour
Scrambled bombs on our butter store.
I want to be—I want to be—
I want to be back home in Blighty.
You can tell the Hun I'm going to
B.Iy.1.—I don't know how to spell it,
But yet I'm going—Oh ! yes, I'm going
To dear old Blighty land.
49. HOO HA—HOO HA HA!

56

50. GUILIyEMONT.
Tune : " Moonlight Bay''
We were rushing along
In Guilleymong;
We could hear the Boche a singing :
They seemed to say,
" You have stolen our trench,
But don't go away,
And we'll pepper you with tear shells
All the day."
We were waiting for them
Later on in the day ;
You might have heard our voices singing :
" Don't lose your way.
This is your old trench,
Now, do step this way,
And we'll give you souvenirs
To take away."
51. I'M SO BAD.
Tune : " Tm in Love.1'—Clarice Mayne.
Sung by troops crossing for the first or subsequent times,"
especially from Southampton, with anything more than a
moderate channel swell.
I'm so bad ; I'm so bad,
You can tell by the look in my bye ;
I feel sick, oh—so sick !
I'm sure I'm just going to die, oh—my !
I've just spewed ; all my food's
Gone West,* out into the sea;
Oh ! don't touch me yet, for I ne'er will forget
The Kaiser and his blasted army.
* A war expression meaning lost, destroyed, or killed—
presumably because the Boche fires at our troops from Bast to
West
§7

52. I WANT TO GO HOME.
Tune : " / want to go Home."

I want to go home,]
I want to go home.
I don't want to go to the trenches no more,
Where there are shells and Jack Johnsons * galore.
I want to go home,
Where the Allemand f can't get at me*
Oh my ! I don't want to die,
I want to go home.
* A 12-in. shell, or one of another big calibre.
f German,
53- OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE.
Tunb : " Kind Words can Never Die."
Old soldiers never die, never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die, they always fade away.
54. Also :
This rain will never stop, never stop, never stop,
This rain will never stop—No, no, no, no, n®.
Whilst on campaign, as in the sheltered days at home, the
weather can form a frequent subject as a " grouse."
fig-

55- IF IT'S A GERMAN—GUNS UP !
Tune: " If It's a Lady—Thumbs Up !"
If it's a German—Guns Up !
If it's a German with hands up,
Don't start taking prisoners now,
Give it 'em in the neck and say " Bow-wow/*
If it's a German—Guns Up !
Stick him in the leg—it is sublime,
If he whispers in your ear,
" Kamerad ! Kamerad ! "
Guns Up—every time.
56. ONWARD, QUEEN VICTORIAS !
Tune : " Onward, Christian Soldiers."
Onward ! Queen Victorias,
Guarding the railway line.
Is this " foreign service " ?
Ain't it jolly fine ?
No ! we're not downhearted.
Won't the Huns look sick ?
When they meet us over there,
All looking span and spick ?
Hope on, Queen Victorias !
Don't forget the fray.
We shall do our duty
For a bob a day.
57. OUR JAM.
Tune : " Marching through Georgia"
The jam, the jam, the glorious gooseberry jam,
The jam, the jam, the jam that was made for me,
The jam we spread on somebody's bed or on half a loaf
of bread,
The jam that feeds a hungry mob like we,
50

58. THE OLD-MAN'S HAMMER.
Tune: " Oh! see me dance the Polka"
Take the old man back his hammer,
'Twas a cowardly thing to do,
To take the old man's hammer
When it didn't belong to you.
So take him back his hammer,
'Twas a terrible thing to do.
You wouldn't like it if he would come
And take a hammer from you.
59. Same Tune :
Oh ! we cannot do the Goose Step,
Oh ! we will not do the Goose Step,
Oh ! we shall not do the Goose Step,
Then Kaiser Billll go bust.
60. LEFT! LEFT!

60

6i. WHO KIIXED COCK ROBIN ?
(R.F.C. Version.)
Who killed Cock Robin ?
" I," said the Hun,
" With my Lewis gun,*
I killed Cock Robin."
All the planes in the air
Went a-dipping and a-throbbing,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin.
Who saw him hit ?
" I," said old Fritz,
" And I have a bit,
I saw him hit."
And all the planes in the air
Went a-swaying and a-bobbing,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin.
Who saw him die ?
" I," said the spy,
" With my telepathic eye,
I saw him die."
And all the planes in the air
Went a-strafing and a-bombing,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin,
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin.
* I^ewis gun is a machine gun fitted to aeroplanes—fires 600
rounds a minute.
The actions portrayed in the second line of each chorus are
obvious.
61

62. THE ROSARY—HOSPITAL VERSION.
(To Nurse Morris, No. 2 R.C. Hospital, Rouen.)
The hours you've tended me, dear nurse,
Are as a string of pearls to me ;
I count your hours off duty with a heavy heart,
But I'm resigned—I've got to be.
Some Nurses are—and some are not.
Some Nurses can—and some cannot.
But you're one of those that are and can;
You're an awfu' good sport—maid to man.
And when the war is over,
You'll go back to Angleterre,
You'll hear La Belle France call you—Oh! won't
you curse,
Mais je ne pense pas—'Twill be me, dear nurse
63. THE PILOT'S PSALM.
Parody on the 23RD Psaume of David.
The BE 2c is my bus ; therefore shall I want.
He maketh me to come down in green pastures.
He leadeth me where I will not go.
He maketh me to be sick; he leadeth me astray on
all cross-country flights.
Yea: though I fly o'er No-man's land where mine
enemies wouldst compass me about, I fear much evil:
for thou art with me; thy jo)Tstick and thy prop dis-
comfort me.
Thou preparest a crash before me in the presence of
mine enemies ; thy R.A.F. anointest my hair with oil,
thy tank leaketh badly.
Surely to goodness thou shalt not follow7 me all the
days of my life: else I shall dwell in the House at
Colney Hatch for ever,
§2

64. THE MECHANICS MOAN.
Tune : " The Rosary"
The hours I spent with thee, dear bus,
Are as a string of plugs to me ;
I count the clearances in all your valves,
But you will miss—and still you miss.
Some pilots are—and some are not.
Some pilots can—and some cannot.
The engine's misfiring ! now we're o'er the line ;
I'm coming back : the fault's not mine.
And when the war is over,
I'm going back to Angleterre,
And then you'll hear La Belle France calling me,
I don't think : Je ne pense pas.
65. THE MOUNTAINS OF MORNE.
(Another Moan.)
Dear, mother I'm writing this letter you see ;
I'm a second A.M. in the R.F.C.,
And when I enlisted, a pilot to be ;
But oh ! 'tis never a bit of the flying I see.
The sergeant-majors, they bawl and they shout,
They don't never know what they're talking about.
Now if things don't alter I'll blooming soon be
Where the Mountains of Morne sweep down by the sea.
66. OFFICERS' WIVES/

m

67. THE RAGTIME FRYING CORPS.

THE RAGTIME FRYING CORPS.
Tunb : Special.
We are the Ragtime Flying Corps,
We are the ragtime boys,
We are respected by every nation
And we're loved by all the girls, I don't think,
People, they think we're millionaires,
Think we're dealers in stocks and shares ;
When we go out all the people roar,
We are the Ragtime Flying Corps.
We are the Ragtime Flying Corps,
We are the R.F.C.
We spend our tanners, we know our manners,
And are respected wherever we go.
Walking up and down the Farnborough Road,
Doors and windows open wide.
We are the boys of the R.F.C.;
We don't care a damn for Germany ;
We are the Flying Corps.
68. THE BIRDMAN.
Tunb: " I want to be an Angel"
I want to be an airman bold,
To mingle with the stars,
To fly all weathers, hot and cold,
To be a son of Mars.
I fear no Hun ; no, far or near,
While my gun's mounted in the rear,
And I've a Vickers* by my side,
To be my escort and my guide.
*' A machine-gun—now much in favour as a fixed gun to fire
between the propeller blades.
65                                                    i

69. THE RAGTIME AIRCRAFT BUILDERS,
Tune : " Here we go gathering Nuts and May"
This they call a factory,
a factory,
a factory.
Its breadth and width is three by three,
It's called the R.A.F.*
And here we build our aeroplanes,
a biplane,
and a monoplane.
With silly work we're nigh insane,
At the factory for aircraft.
Now two big sheetsf from mother's bed,
not sister's bed,
nor I^ucy's bed.
Two big sheets from mother's bed,
They'll come in very handy.
Two big wheels [from father's car,
father's car,
father's car.
Two big wheelsj from father's car,
They'll do very well.
Now this they call a fuselage,!
a fuselage,
not mucilage.
You only call it fuselage
When you're in the know.
§6

The Ragtime Aircraft Builders—cont.
Next we have the longeron J
the longeron,
the one plus long.
Now that We have a longeron,
Well stick it in the middle.
Now we'll shove the joystick in,^
joystick in,
joystick in.
Well just shove the joystick in
To make it look complete.
Next well have the motoro,**
the R.A.F.,
which will not go.
It's quite a puzzle to those in the know,
With all its idiosyncrasies.
We mustn't forget the old windstick,f f
it goes all right
without a flick.
But sometimes stops—then we look sick—
At five o'clock in the morning.
And now we've made an aeroplane,
Is't a biplane
Or a monoplane ?
We'll pack it up and send it by train,
So as not to spoil it.
(Over the lines.)
I think they're off their beastly rocker
perhaps they f Kb-
it's a ganiv 01 soccer.
They send me out against a Fokker :JJ
They must have lost their valve-head.
67

The Ragtime Aircraft Builders—cont.
{Two months later.)
And here I am in hospital,
in hospital,
Far from Pall Mall.
But when I come out, I shall resign
My commission in the Army.
* Pronounced Arayeff in this case, usually pronounced as
spelt—" raf " ; stands for the Government-owned Royal Air-
craft Factory at Farnboro', Hants.
t In lieu of fabric.
% For the landing chassis.
§ The portion of an aeroplane connecting the planes with
the tail.
|1 The main longitudinal members, usually of wood, on which
the fuselage is built up.

^f Control lever, sometimes known as the cloche.
** A R.A.F. production of ill repute.
tf The propeller, usually known nowadays as the " prop."
%% Written at the time of the Fokker scourge—when Bj| 2 c's
were being beaten wholesale.
70. THE MECHANICS' ROSARY.
(R.F.C. Parody.)
Tune : " My Mother's Rosary"
There's an awful noise at times
Comes from out our planes.
Jim—'e calls it 'orrid names,
Says it gives 'im pains
Without any rhyme,
Without any prose.
One can never get the blamed thing to go;
But ten great big cylinders,
And ten great big valves :
You'll take them out,
You'll put them in,
And when your daily work is done,
You'll count them each and every one—
That is your Rosary.
68

7i. OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL BUS!*
Tune : " Oh, you beautiful Doll! "
(R.F.C. Parody.)
Oh, you beautiful bus !
You great big beautiful bus !
I^et me take the wireless off you,
Put the blooming bomb racks on you.
Oh, you beautiful bus !
You great big beautiful bus !
If I should ever leave you, oh, my heart would ache ;
I would hug you, but I fear you'd break,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, you beautiful bus !
* Pet name for all aeroplanes. Aviators, like yachtsmen,
never allude to their craft by the correct name.
72. YOU'RE SOME AEROPLANE.
Tune: " Beautiful Baby Doll"
(R.F.C. Parody.)
You're some aeroplane,
You're at your tricks again.
When you start that flying,
It's a style of your own.
I can't help but holler out, " Good-bye, happy home."
Oh 1 Oh ! hold on tight,
It's going to loop with all its might.
Oh ! when you dip, as you always do,
I have nothing at all to do.
Oh ! I can feel you strain,
Yrou horrible aeroplane!
m

73- ODE TO THE R.A.P. (Engine).

Eight little cylinders sitting facing heaven,
One blew its head off—then there were seven.
Seven little cylinders used to playing tricks,
One warped its inlet valve—then there were six.
Six little cylinders working all alive,
One got a sooted plug—then there were five.
Five little cylinders working all the more,
One overworked itself—then there were four.
Four little cylinders flying o'er the sea,
One shed a piston ring—then there were three.
Three little cylinders wondering what to do,
One over-oiled itself—then there were two.
Two little cylinders very nearly done,
One broke a valve stem—then there was one.
One little cylinder trying to pull round seven,
At length gave its efforts up and ascended into
heaven.
70

74- GREENER GROWS THE GRASS.
Tunk : See Ode to R.A.F., page 70.
Higher up the mountain,
Greener grows the grass :
Down came an elephant
Sliding on a threepenny bit.
Five-and-twenty navvies
Working on a line :
Five-and-twenty bob a week
And all the overtime.
Higher up the mountain,
Greener grows the grass.
The more the donkey wags his tail,
The more you see his
Ask a policeman :
Hear him say you nay ;
Morning, noon, and night-time—
Ask him all the day.
75. NAPOO—FINIMl*
Tune : " Keep the Home Fires burning."
(R.F.C. Parody.)
Keep the 2 c's burning, f
Watch the windsticks squirming,
The R.A.F. has chugged his inside out,
All on his blooming own.
Can't yer 'ear it grinding ?
'Oo the 'ell's a-pining ?
Don't yer 'ear the fabric rip ?—
I/ist ter its sad, sad moan I
* Tommy's contraction of " II vCy a plus " : means finished ;
no more ; lost; forgotten, etc.
f BE) 2c—a machine of Government design meant to be a
general utility machine ; see other references.
71

76, RECRUITING SONG R.F.C. No. i.
Special Ttjnk.
I was standing at the corner,
When I heard somebody say :
" Come to join the Flying Corps,
Come, step along, this way."
I threw my thirty* chest out,
And put my cap on straight,
And walked into the office
Along with Jack, my mate.
They offered me two bob a day,f
I said, " I didn't think,"
■ But when they murmured, " Four bob,"$
I said, " Come, have a drink."
And now I spend my Sundays
With Lizzie in the Lane.
I wonder when 111 get my " first "§
Or see an aeroplane.
I never was so well off
In all my naturel:
You should see me in St. James's,
I am an awful swell.
And now I've been to Larkhill, II
My education is complete.
" Form fours," " 'Bout turn," " Two deep,"
Oh ! don't I do it neat.
You should see us hold our heads up
When the others pass us by,
The girls they all run after us
And, breathless, say, " Oh my !
Dear Tommy brave, I'll be your slave,
If you will take me up."
But hastily I answer,
" I've an invitation out to sup."
72

77- RECRUITING SONG R.F.C. No. 2.
Tune: " The Lowther Arcade and The Tin Gee-Gee"
I was walking in town up Regent Street
When I saw the R.F.C.
I thought to myself—Now, they look neat—
I think that would suit me.
So I strolled inside, and carefully lied
About my carpentry, *
But when I came out, I swaggered about—
For I was in the R.F.C.
They sent me down to Salisbury Plain
To a place they call Ivarkhill.
The sergeants they bullied with might and main
And made us do some drill.
All the fellows they were " risky/' they smoked naught
but De Reske
When going to the Y.M. hut.
And they didn't do us badly—tho' we weren't from Pope
and Bradley—f
For we were the Flying Corps—Tut! Tut!
76. Recruiting Song R.F.C. No 1.
*  30 inches.
f Pay of second class air mechanic.
j Pay of first-class air mechanic.
§ To get one's " first" is to be promoted from 2/A.M. to i/A.M.
|| One-time training ground for drill, etc., for the R.F.C.
It is interesting to record here that air mechanics are invari-
ably referred to as " ackemmas "—i.e., 1st ackemrna or 2nd
ackemma—this being the Army signal way of distinguishing
letters when words are spelt over the 'phone.
jj% Recruiting Song R.F.C. No 2.
*  The writer has personal knowledge of an ** air mechanic "
who was enlisted as a carpenter and knew not one wood and
scarcely one tool from another. Such incidents were frequent
—trade tests being very superficial and the testers presumably
open to bribes.
t# One of the earliest tailoring firms to specialise in R.F.C.
tunics, or " maternity jackets "—as they are popularly known,
73

78. " EXCELSIOR "■ UP TO DATE.
The shades of night were falling fast
As to the aerodrome there passed
A youth, with jaw set like a vice,
Who bore aloft this strange device :
Keep Frying !
His brow was glad; his eyes were bright,
Reflected in the starry night i
And as he staggered to his bus,
We heard him faintly whisper thus :
Keep Frying !
" Beware the Lewis gun that jambs !
Beware the shaky struts and cams !
The engine, too, is thick with rust."
" Oh, rats ! " the youth replied. " I must
KEEP FRYING ! "
" Try not the flight! " the sergeant pressed.
" 'Twill mean ' No flowers, by request/
And currents roll both deep and wide ! "
But loud that clarion voice replied :
" Keep Flying ! "
" Oh, stay ! " the Flight Commander said,
" The wine in mess flows good and red,
The sherry sparkles, rich and bright i "
A voice replied, far up the height:
" Keep Flying ! "
At break of day we started out
And scanned the heavens for his Scout.
And as we whistled through the air
We heard a dulcet voice declare :
" Keep Flying ! "
74

'' Excelsior'' Up-to-date—cont.
There, in the tree-top, that young coon
Perched like a punctured kite balloon.
And when the ambulance drew nigh
We heard his last despairing cry :
" Keep Frying- ! "
G. R. S.
Aeronautics, zgS-'ij.
79. LOOPING THE LOOP.
Tune: Special.

Looping the loop with Lucy Loo,
Looping the loop with Lu;
Whirling and twirling the whole day long,
In a bus that's built for two ;
Then up in the*sky so high we fly,
And then with a rush we go.
It's just the same motion
You get on the ocean
That you're forced to say " 'Arf a mo."
75

80. THE DYING AVIATOR.
Tune : " The Dying Lancer."
Sow).
A handsome young airman lay dying,
(chorus) : lay dying,
And as on the aer'drome he lay,
he lay,
To the mechanics who round him came sighing,
came sighing,
These last dying words he did say,
he did say :
" Take the cylinder out of my kidneys/'
" of his kidneys,"
li The connecting rod out of my brain,"
" of his brain/1
lt The cam box from under my backbone,"
" his backbone,"
" And assemble the engine again,"
" again"
"When the court of enquiry assembles,"
" assembles"
" Please tell them the reason I died "
"he died"
" Was because I forgot twice iota "
"twice iota"
"Was the minimum angle of glide"
t{ of glide"
81. OH, HAD I THE WINGS OF AN AVRO !
Tune : " The Dying Lancer,"
Sovx
Oh, had I the wings of an Avro,
(chorus) : " of an Avro,"
Then, far, far away I would soar,
" would soar,"
Right off to my pals down in Holland,
" in Holland,"
And rest there the rest of the war,
" the war."
76

8a. ESPRIT DE CORPS.
(An Authenticated Epic.)
Tune : " The Dying Lancer."
Solo.
Wrap me up in my old yellow jacket,
The one in which I used to soar;
(chorus) : to soar ;
Give my helmet, my map and my goggles—
I feel once again as of yore.
as of yore.
Fasten the jacket around me,
Lift me into my place ;
my place ;
For ne'er shall ye say I'd the wind up,
I've still life enough for the pace.
for the pace.
Wrap me up in my old yellow jacket,
Give me the joystick to hold;
to hold;
Let me fly once again o'er the trench line—
Thus shall my exploits be told.
be told.
Oh ! it's good to be in the old jacket,
To hear, " Switch off—petrol on, sir " ;
11 petrol on ";
To repeat once again the word " contact,"
To hear the old engine go whir-r-r-r.
go whir-r-r-r.
Now we're off—o'er the line will we allez,
To strafe and to bomb is our aim ;
our aim;
To win or to lose in a combat—
The game must be played just the same.
just the same.
77

Esprit db Corps—cont.
Ah I see that Hun there—in the sun, lad,
Give him a burst of the best:
of the best;
Poop, poop, poop—he's returning our fire.
I must splitass and stunt round him, lest . . .
round him, lest. . .
God ! I'm hit, curse him—I feel so dizzy ;
I'm sorry, old thing—it's my fault;
my fault;
My hand or my eyes not so steady :
I don't feel as well as I thought.
as I thought.
Down, down, in a nose-dive they're spinning,
Down from ten thousand to two :
to two ;
Very slowly the machine comes out level,
The sands of life not yet run thro'.
not run through.
By instinct his actions are guided,
The machine flying homeward bound now :
bound now ;
ThJ observer, a-sweat and a-tremble,
Scarce knows what has happened—nor how.
nor how.
He knows naught of the art of controlling
An unstable bus in the air ;
in the air;
It's his first ascent into the heavens—
Sure, 'tis an experience rare.
very mre,
7%

Dazed—yet alive—he is landing :
Blood from his scalp surges down;
from his crown;
He moves not as they rusn towards him,
Ere then—his brave spirit has flown.
has flown.
They laid him in his old yellow jacket,
In peace ; and his spirit may soar
may soar
Far above, where the Huns cease from troubling,
And Lewis guns rattle no more.
no more.
83. A STRAFE ON THE KAISER.
Tunb : Special.
We haven't seen the Kaiser for a hell of a time,
Hell of a time—Hell of a time.
We came to France to see what he was doing,
The Royal Flying Corps will be his ruddy ruin :
Oh, we haven't seen the Kaiser for a hell of a time,
He must have been a-blown up by a mine.
For he's the leader of the German band.
Gott strafe him, he's a cousin of mine.
84. WHEN THEY WERE UP, THEY WERE UP.
The brave old Duke of York,
He had ten thousand men :
He marched them up to the top of the hill,
And marched them down again.
And when they were up, they were up,
And when they were down, they were down,
But when they were halfway up that hill,
They were neither up nor down.
79

85. THE GREEN GRASS GREW ALL ROUND.
Tune :] Special.

For there was a little mill,
And the mill was on the hill,
And the hill stood still,
And the green grass grew all round;
And the green grass grew all around, my boys,
The green grass grew all round,
For there was a little tree,
And the tree was near the mill,
And the mill was on the hill,
And the hill stood still,
And the green grass grew all round ;
And the green grass grew all around, my boys,
The green grass grew all round.
For there was a little bough
That grew upon the tree,
And the tree was near the mill,
And the mill was on the hill,
And the hill stood still,
And the green grass grew all round ;
And the green grass grew ah around, my boys,
The green grass grew all round.
For there was a little branch,
And the branch was on the bough,
80

The Green Grass Grew Au, Round—ami.
And the bough was on the tree,
And the tree was near the mill,
And the mill was on the hill,
And the hili stood still,
And the green grass grew all round;
And the green grass grew all around, my boys*
The green grass grew all round.
For there came a little bird,
Who sat upon that branch,
And the branch was on the bough,
And the bough was on the tree,
And the tree was near the mill,
And the mill was on the hill,
And the hill stood still,
And the green grass grew all round;
And the green grass grew all around, my boys*
The green grass grew all round.
With Extensions ad infinitum.
86. THE SEAFORTH'S SOB.
Tune: " Yankee Doodle"
You may have fought the Turk, sir,
And think it very funny
That tho' the Seaforths do the work,
The Sappers get the money.
87. NO QUARTER.
Tune : " Yankee Doodle."
Kaiser Bill, he went to war
Athirst for blood and slaughter :
He lost his crown—so he feels sore;
And so he bally well oughter.
81                                               »

88. DOWN IN THE VAWUBY.
Tune : Special.

The first time I met her she was dressed all in green,
All in green,
All in green.
Prett'est girl I've ever seen,
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in grey,
All in grey,
All in grey.
Oh ! Ill ne'er forget that day
Down in the Valley where she followed me,
The third time I met her she was dressed all in mauve,
All in mauve,
All in mauve.
Guess how my eyes did rove
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in pink,
All in pink,
All in pink.
Took her to the open air rink
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in brown,
All in brown,
AU in brown.
On the grass did we sit down,
Down in the valley where she followed me.
S2

The next time I met her she was dressed all in blue,
All in blue,
All in blue.
You should have seen us bill and coo
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in white,
All in white,
All in white.
My !—I had an awful night
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in yellow,
All in yellow,
All in yellow.
Kissed by some other fellow
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in scarlet,
All in scarlet,
All in scarlet,
Just like a common harlot,
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The next time I met her she was dressed all in red,
All in red,
All in red.
Two little kiddies dead> .
Down in the valley where she followed me.
The last time I met her she was dressed all in black,
All in black,
All in black.
Out on the other fellow's track,
Down in the valley where she followed me,
Tune for I/Ast Verse : " Farmer Giles"
Now this is the moral to all those who think :
Don't take a strange girl to an open-air rink ;
Don't sit on the grass, as I've already said,
Or may all your troubles be on your own head.
83

89. OHIO.
Tunk : Special.

Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some dogs in Ohio-i-o.
With a bow-wow here, and a bow-wow there,
Here a bow, there a wow, everywhere a bow-wow.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some hens in Ohio-i-o,
With a cluck cluck here, and a cluck cluck there,
Here a cluck, there a cluck, everywhere a cluck, cluck.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some ducks in Ohio-i-o.
With a quack quack here, and a quack quack there,
Here a quack, there a quack, everywhere a quack, quack.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some cows in Ohio-i-o.
With a moo moo here, and a moo moo there,
Here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo moo.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some pigs in Ohio-i-o.
With a grunt grunt here, and a grunt grunt there,
Here a grunt, there a grunt, everywhere a grunt grant.

Ohio-—cont.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had some cats in Ohio-i-o.
With a meow meow here, and a meow meow there,
Here a meow, there a meow, everywhere a meow meow.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o,
And on that farm he had an ass in Ohio-i-o.
With a hee-haw here, and a hee-haw there,
Here a hee, there a haw, everywhere a hee-haw.
Meow-meow, grunt-grunt, moo-moo, quack-quack,
Cluck-cluck, bow-wow.
Old Macdougal had a farm in Ohio-i-o.
90. WE ARE THE BOYS WHO MAKE NO NOISE.
Tune : Special.

We are the boys that make'no noise,
Although we're out in France.
We are the boys that make no noise,
We lead the Huns a dance.
We are the heroes of the night,
But we'd rather eat than fight.
We are the heroes of the gallant Fusiliers.

9i. THE MAN, THE DOG AND THE MEADOW,
Tune : Special.

One man went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
One man and his dawg
Went to mow a meadow.
Two men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Two men, one man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Three men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow,
Three men, two men, one man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Four men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Four men, three men, two men, one man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Five men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow,
Five men, four men, three men, two men, one man (and
his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
86

The Man, Tim Dog and The Meadow—cont.
Six men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Six men, five men, four men, three men, two men, one
man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Seven men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Seven men, six men, five men, four men, three men, two
men, one man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Eight men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Eight men, seven men, six men, five men, four men,
three men, two men, one man (and his dawg
Went to mow a meadow.
Nine men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Nine men, eight men, seven men, six men, five men, four
men, three men, two men, one man (and his dawg)
Went to mow a meadow.
Ten men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow.
Ten men, nine men, eight men, seven men, six men, five
men, four men, three men, two men, on™ man (ard
his dawg)
NEVER mowed that meadow.
And so on, until out of breath.
87

92. CAM, THE ROIX MI
Tune : Special.

Early in the morning, down at the station,
See the little puff-puffs all in a row ;
Man at the engine turns a little handle :
Choo ! choo I choo ! choo ! off they go.
Call the roll, call the roll, call the roll, call the roll,
And we'll meet you at the cookhouse^door.
Early in the morning, on the parade ground,
See the little fatigews* all in a row ;
Up comes the sergeant, gives them their orders :
Left, right I left, right! off they go.
Call the roll, call the roll, call the roll, call the roll,
And we'll meet you at the cookhouse door.
Early in the morning, outside the sick tent,
See the little sick boys all in a row ;.
Up comes the Doctor, gives them each a No. 9 :f
Left, right! left, right! off they go.
Call the roll, call the roll, call the roll, call the roll,
And well meet you at the lathouse door.f
* Men detailed for fatigue of routine drudgery.
t A pill; an aperient
t Latrines,
88

93. NINETY-NINE BOTTLES ON THE WAU,.

There were ninety-nine bottles hanging on the wall,
There were ninety-nine bottles hanging on the wall.
What would happen if one were to fall ?
Why, there'd be ninety-eight bottles hanging on the wall
There were ninety-eight bottles hanging on the wall,
There were ninety-eight bottles hanging on the wall.
Oh, what would happen were another to fall ?
Why, there'd still be ninety-seven bottles hanging on
the wall.
Ninety-seven bottles hanging on the wall,
Ninety-seven bottles hanging on the wall.
What would happen if another were to fall ?
Why, there'd still be ninety-six bottles hanging on that
wall.
Ninety-six bottles hanging on the wall,
Ninety-six bottles hanging on the wall.
Oh, nothing would happen were another to fall,
JCos there'd still be ninety-five bottles hanging on tha*
wall.
And so on, until tired.
19

94* RONNEL McCONNEL.*

Oh, here's to Ronnel McConnel,
Oh, here's to a bottle of beer,
Oh, here's to Ronnel McConnel—
We're all good company here.
So put your left leg out,*
An1 pull your right leg in,*
An' gie yersel's a shake,*
An* turn yersel's about.*
Oh, here's to Ronnel McConnel,
Oh, here's to a bottle of beer,
Oh, here's to Ronnel McConnel,
We're all good company herk.
* This should be sung standing, and action should be suited
to the words as described,
95. BOYS' BRIGADE.
Tune : " Bugle Call.1'
Here comes the Boys' Brigade,
All smothered in marmalade,
A tuppeny ha'penny pillpot,
And half a yard of braid.
90

g6. WHITER THAN THE WHITEWASH.

I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall,
I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.
Wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter
in,
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.
Chorus :
Whiter than the wall,
Whiter than the wall;
Oh ! wash me in the water that you wash your dirty
daughter in,
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.
97. 1815—1915.
TunS : u British Grenadiers"
There was a brave old Scotchie
At the Battle of Waterloo ;
The wind blew up his kilties,
And he didn't know what to do.
91

98. A FUSILIER CHORUS.
Notb by "Solomon Eagi,e," in " The New Statesman."
Mr. Nettleingham asks for supplementary songs. He has
taken so much trouble with his collection that he has probably
got almost everything that has had a general circulation. But
there are no doubt many more good regimental ones. One that
reached me from a Fusilier battalion the other day may or may
not be a local adaptation of a song common to many regiments.
It is a chorus only, to the tune of " Hold Your Hand Out,
Naughty Boy." It is sung in the London vernacular, and is
certainly in the Flanders tradition.
Hold your head down, Fusilier,
Hold your head down, Fusilier,
There's a ruddy great Hun
With a ruddy great gun,
Who'll shoot you,
Who'll shoot you:
There's a sniper up a tree,
Waiting for you and me,
If you want to get back to your home any more,
Hold your head down, Fusilier.
99. WE ARE BUT LITTLE SOLDIERS WEAK.
Tune : " We are but little children weak Jf
We are but little soldiers weak,
We only get six bob a week;
The more we work, the more we may,
It makes no difference to our pay.
Oh, sergeant-major, I can't shoot,
So give me back my civvy suit;
And when this ruddy war is over,
Take me back to dear old Dover.
93

loo THE UTTXE DUG-OUT IN THE WEST*
Tune : " Little Grey Home in the West"
In my little dug-out in the west,
Where of shrapnel we have such a feast,
There is lyddite galore, and gas shells by the score;
How the Hell can a man live in peace ?
We have bully beef biscuits and jam,
Though for Germans we don't care a damn.
In a nice peaceful spot, where the shells burst on top,
Is my little dug-out in the west.
ioi. THE GAWDBIJMEY HAT.*
Tune : Special.
My old man was a farmer,
Now what do you think of that ?
He's wearing khaki trousers
And a little gawdblimey hat.
* The soft, floppy type of Service cap that some officers affect.
The Birmingham Post reminds us as we go to press of
" the unceasing repetition, to the tune of ' Yankee Doodle,' of
the celebrated verse (which has escaped Mr. Nettleingham) :—
I like a man as is a man,
A bloke as isn't funky ;
I like a man who's like a man,
An' not a bloomin' monkey/'
m

THE MOST REMARKABLE AND
VITAL OF ALL WAR BOOKS.
SOLDIER POETS:
Songs of the Fighting Men.
Cloth, 2/6 net; Paper, 1/6 net
"A wonderful volume."—Daily Chronicle.
" A singular proof of spiritual efflorescence. ...
A treasury of remembrance which all must read who
would know the soldier's hidden heart."—Morning
Post.
" Will be treasured with delight by all lovers of
grace and purity in verse, and with pride that England
is represented by such purity.—
"A little volume to treasure . . . contains poems
that will become classics."—Daily Mail.
" This volume, compiled with admirable taste and
discrimination by Mr. Galloway Kyle, is the work of
soldiers who are also singers. How sweet their song
it needs but a cursory glance through its pages to
reveal. The poems are the reflections of various I
temperaments, but they are all informed by the spirit I
I of a high resolve and a dauntless courage. There is
here, too, a certain gaiety of mood which, by some I
strange paradox, appears to be one of the compensa- 1
tions of a soldier's life. Some of these men are now I
numbered with the -slain, but they have bequeathed
I to posterity a priceless legacy of song."—New Witness.
Dr. Hugh Walker, Professor of Literature and
Philosophy at St. David's College, Lampeter, in The
Welsh Outlook i—
" Soldier Poets is nearly always distinctly good, and
sometimes it comes near to being great poetry. Cer-
tainly the spirit that it shows is great. There are not
infrequent technical flaws : how could it be otherwise
I when some, probably many, of the pieces were com-
posed in the trenches ? But there is the stark sincerity
of purpose, the flawless truth which has been the
essence of great art ever since art arose among men.
Though some of the pieces are faulty, they are all
I tingling with vitality. They are in touch with reality, |
yet are nobly free from that realism which thinks a
94

stench more real than a perfume, and the polluted
I slime where a river rolls to the sea through some
I great city more real than the infinite ocean beyond.
" These poems from the land of the sights and
smells of death are as wholesome as a new-mown
hayfield- And they are so because the realities the
soldiers have fixed their eyes upon are the great reali-
ties of life and death. ' I have tried to picture some
thoughts that pass through a man's brain when he
dies,' writes Streets—alas ! * Wounded and missing,
July, 1916.' The man who so tries can never do
ignobly. The vision Streets sees is a reality more
I enduring than the stench or the slime. It is Youth
thrilling to give for Liberty 4 its love, its hope, its
radiant morn.' "
I         " The soldiers always have something particular to
say ; sometimes, we may be sure, they could not rest
I until it was said. Let us end with Captain Grenfell's
fine picture of the soldier going into battle. . . . This
I is religio militis—not the least noble varietyof religion.''
I ".To read these poems by men of all ranks in the
j British Army is to weep. But let not the reader I
deceive himself by tears. It is easy to weep—and
feel safe. Tears will little avail us who profit by the
brotherly sacrifice of these splendid youths if our
emotions do not re-act in effort, . . . The soldier
poet never dwells on horror for horror's sake. He
I knows what life is, and he finds in it beauty and love
even in the depths of pain. The old style of soldier
was inarticulate. Poets as far apart as Tennyson and
Kipling tried to sing for him. They sang well, but
the poverty of their effort can only be measured by
such wonderful soldier verses as these. When the
soldier himself sings there is no flamboyance, no mock
J heroic. He uses a language simple, direct, sweet. ...
Here is the secret of the soldier's spirit. We who I
cannot fight may be envoisu to learn this secret, but I
it means travelling by a hard road. . . . These men
have found the realm beyond the physical."—The New I
Mast {Tokyo).
The national spirit would be fortified if every adult
and every adolescent were acquainted with this book.
Order it now and see that every friend and every
school knows about it, A big Public School edition is j
in preparation.
95

THE WAR IN POETRY.
SOLDIER POETS : SONGS OP THE FIGHTING MEN.
24 contributors. Fcp. 8vo, cloth, 2/6 net; trench edition
I            (paper wrappers), 1/6 net.
FROM AN OUTPOST and Other Poems, by the late LESLIE
Coupon. Paper, is. net; Cloth, 2/6 net.
Paper Wrappers, if- net.
UNDER THE OPEN SKY, by HARaY MaUTHEWS,
Private, A.I.F.
FLEUR DE LYS, by LIEUT. Dynbi,Ey Hussey.
PASTORALS, by LiEUT. E. A. BijjndEn.
POEMS, by Lieut. A. C. Macartney.
SONGS FROM CAMP AND COLLEGE, by LiEUT. Lodge
and A. A. Cock.
FROM FIELD AND HOSPITAL, by H. Smau,£y Sarson,
Private, C.I.F.
SUNRISE DREAMS, by Lieut. E. F. Wilkinson, M.C.
THE DAY OF BATTLE, an Epic of War, by Arthur
Thrush.
RAILHEAD, by LiEUT. G113BRT WaTBRHOUSE.
OUR HEROES: A Tribute and a Memorial, by
Aimee E. Eager.
THE VERSE AND VIGNETTES of the late G. M. Stanton,
I            2nd Lieut., cloth, 2/6 net.
THE WANDERING WIND, by Norman Angun, A.B.R.N.,
cloth, 3/6 net.
A WOMAN'S WAR SONGS AND SONNETS, by C. A.
Renshaw, cloth, 2/6 net.
WAR SONGS AND SONNETS, by Alfred WnxiAMS,
crown 8vo, 2/6 net.
POEMS OF 1915, by Vioi,bt GrxxESPiE, cloth, 2/6 net
POEMS OF A MOTHER : 1914-16, 6d. net
DE PROFUNDIS, by Rifleman Cross.                               
WAR WORKERS, by Bernard Gilbert, cxown $v©»
1/6 net.
THE SONG OF SHARRUK, by W. B. Nichow, 2/6 net
THE HOUSE OF MINIATURES, by Ed. Percy, 3/6 net
ERSKINE MACDONALD, Ltd., London, w.c
 

Copyright © 2001-2020 by The Jack Horntip Collection.  Conditions of Use.