Page:The moods of Ginger Mick.djvu/117

 The Game

O! the sky's as blue as blazes an' the sun is shinin' bright, An' the dicky birds is singin' over'ead, An' I'm 'ummin', softly 'ummin', w'ile I'm achin' fer a fight, An' the chance to fill some blighter full o' lead. An' the big guns they are boomin', an' the shells is screamin' past, But I'm corperil—lance-corperil, an' found me game at last!"

I ixpects a note frum Ginger, fer the time wus gettin' ripe, An' I gits one thick wiv merry 'owls uv glee, Fer they've gone an' made 'im corperil—they've given 'im a stripe, An' yeh'd think, to see 'is note, it wus V.C. Fer 'e chortles like a nipper wiv a bran' noo Noer's Ark Since Forchin she 'as smiled on 'im, an' life's no more a nark.

"Ho! the sky along the 'ill-tops, it is smudged wiv cannon smoke, An' the shells along the front is comin' fast. But the 'eads 'ave 'ad the savvy fer to reckernise a bloke. An' permotion's gettin' common-sense at last. An' they picked me fer me manners, w'ich wus snouted over 'ome, But I've learned to be a soljer since I crossed the ragin' foam.

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