THE GROWL
They told us w’en we ’listedWe’d have a lot to bear—There was ’ardships, good and plenty,And a chance to “do and dare.”An’ since lobbing ’ere at AnzacWe’ve ’ad a scrap or three,But wot we’re goin’ crook for is,There’s only tea for tea.We can take our “iron rations,”Tho’ they ’and ’em out like ’Ell,An’ we’d charge the blankey TurkeysThro’ a cataract of shell!But wot narks us more than anyIs to ’ear the sergeant say:“The sea’s too rough to land our stores;There ain’t no jam to-day!”When we’re stuck up in the trenches,W’ere the shells is fallin’ thick,And Johnny Turk’s machine-gunsDoes the interviewin’ trick,We give ’em all they gave us,And a bit of interest, too,But w’y don’t someone tell ’emWe’re just perishin’ for stoo!We lays down in the openW’en our “bivvies”[23]isn’t dug,The rain comes down in rivers,And we’re anythink but snug;We “stand to” ’arf the bloomin’ night,But the whole of that is naught,If they’d give us all we wantedOf the steak wot comes to port.W’en it rains they give us lime juice,W’en it’s ’ot they give us rum;The baccy don’t arrive becauseThe mule train didn’t come.The mail is ’arf a day be’ind,And w’en it comes to light,We blanky well can’t read it,’Cause it’s dark as Egypt’s night.But, anyway, that’s roustin’,You don’t want to ’eed our ’owl;They say as ’ow a soldier’As a perfect right to growl.If it’s bully beef till Doomsday,We ain’t goin’ to make a fuss—So long as we can lick the Turks,That’s good enough for us.E. M. Smith,27th Battalion.
They told us w’en we ’listedWe’d have a lot to bear—There was ’ardships, good and plenty,And a chance to “do and dare.”An’ since lobbing ’ere at AnzacWe’ve ’ad a scrap or three,But wot we’re goin’ crook for is,There’s only tea for tea.We can take our “iron rations,”Tho’ they ’and ’em out like ’Ell,An’ we’d charge the blankey TurkeysThro’ a cataract of shell!But wot narks us more than anyIs to ’ear the sergeant say:“The sea’s too rough to land our stores;There ain’t no jam to-day!”When we’re stuck up in the trenches,W’ere the shells is fallin’ thick,And Johnny Turk’s machine-gunsDoes the interviewin’ trick,We give ’em all they gave us,And a bit of interest, too,But w’y don’t someone tell ’emWe’re just perishin’ for stoo!We lays down in the openW’en our “bivvies”[23]isn’t dug,The rain comes down in rivers,And we’re anythink but snug;We “stand to” ’arf the bloomin’ night,But the whole of that is naught,If they’d give us all we wantedOf the steak wot comes to port.W’en it rains they give us lime juice,W’en it’s ’ot they give us rum;The baccy don’t arrive becauseThe mule train didn’t come.The mail is ’arf a day be’ind,And w’en it comes to light,We blanky well can’t read it,’Cause it’s dark as Egypt’s night.But, anyway, that’s roustin’,You don’t want to ’eed our ’owl;They say as ’ow a soldier’As a perfect right to growl.If it’s bully beef till Doomsday,We ain’t goin’ to make a fuss—So long as we can lick the Turks,That’s good enough for us.E. M. Smith,27th Battalion.
They told us w’en we ’listedWe’d have a lot to bear—There was ’ardships, good and plenty,And a chance to “do and dare.”An’ since lobbing ’ere at AnzacWe’ve ’ad a scrap or three,But wot we’re goin’ crook for is,There’s only tea for tea.
They told us w’en we ’listed
We’d have a lot to bear—
There was ’ardships, good and plenty,
And a chance to “do and dare.”
An’ since lobbing ’ere at Anzac
We’ve ’ad a scrap or three,
But wot we’re goin’ crook for is,
There’s only tea for tea.
We can take our “iron rations,”Tho’ they ’and ’em out like ’Ell,An’ we’d charge the blankey TurkeysThro’ a cataract of shell!But wot narks us more than anyIs to ’ear the sergeant say:“The sea’s too rough to land our stores;There ain’t no jam to-day!”
We can take our “iron rations,”
Tho’ they ’and ’em out like ’Ell,
An’ we’d charge the blankey Turkeys
Thro’ a cataract of shell!
But wot narks us more than any
Is to ’ear the sergeant say:
“The sea’s too rough to land our stores;
There ain’t no jam to-day!”
When we’re stuck up in the trenches,W’ere the shells is fallin’ thick,And Johnny Turk’s machine-gunsDoes the interviewin’ trick,We give ’em all they gave us,And a bit of interest, too,But w’y don’t someone tell ’emWe’re just perishin’ for stoo!
When we’re stuck up in the trenches,
W’ere the shells is fallin’ thick,
And Johnny Turk’s machine-guns
Does the interviewin’ trick,
We give ’em all they gave us,
And a bit of interest, too,
But w’y don’t someone tell ’em
We’re just perishin’ for stoo!
We lays down in the openW’en our “bivvies”[23]isn’t dug,The rain comes down in rivers,And we’re anythink but snug;We “stand to” ’arf the bloomin’ night,But the whole of that is naught,If they’d give us all we wantedOf the steak wot comes to port.
We lays down in the open
W’en our “bivvies”[23]isn’t dug,
The rain comes down in rivers,
And we’re anythink but snug;
We “stand to” ’arf the bloomin’ night,
But the whole of that is naught,
If they’d give us all we wanted
Of the steak wot comes to port.
W’en it rains they give us lime juice,W’en it’s ’ot they give us rum;The baccy don’t arrive becauseThe mule train didn’t come.The mail is ’arf a day be’ind,And w’en it comes to light,We blanky well can’t read it,’Cause it’s dark as Egypt’s night.
W’en it rains they give us lime juice,
W’en it’s ’ot they give us rum;
The baccy don’t arrive because
The mule train didn’t come.
The mail is ’arf a day be’ind,
And w’en it comes to light,
We blanky well can’t read it,
’Cause it’s dark as Egypt’s night.
But, anyway, that’s roustin’,You don’t want to ’eed our ’owl;They say as ’ow a soldier’As a perfect right to growl.If it’s bully beef till Doomsday,We ain’t goin’ to make a fuss—So long as we can lick the Turks,That’s good enough for us.
But, anyway, that’s roustin’,
You don’t want to ’eed our ’owl;
They say as ’ow a soldier
’As a perfect right to growl.
If it’s bully beef till Doomsday,
We ain’t goin’ to make a fuss—
So long as we can lick the Turks,
That’s good enough for us.
E. M. Smith,27th Battalion.
E. M. Smith,
27th Battalion.
FOOTNOTES:[23]Bivvy—bivouac, shelter.
[23]Bivvy—bivouac, shelter.
[23]Bivvy—bivouac, shelter.