  The boys who laughed and jested with me but yesterday, So fit for kings to speak to, so blithe and proud and gay ... Are now but thoughts of blind pain, and best hid away.... (Over the top this morning at the dawn’s first grey.) O, if we catch the Kaiser his dirty hide to flay, We’ll hang him on a tall tree his pride to allay. That will not bring the boys again to mountain and brae.... (Over the top this morning at the dawn’s first grey.) To think—earth’s best and dearest turned to red broken clay By one devil’s second! What words can we say? Or what gift has God their mothers’ anguish to repay?... (Over the top this morning at the first flush of day.) |
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