The Happy Soldier (Read)

His wild heart beats with painful sobs, His strin'd hands clench an ice-cold rifle, His aching jaws grip a hot parch'd tongue, His wide eyes search unconsciously.

He cannot shriek.

Bloody saliva Dribbles down his shapeless jacket.

I saw him stab And stab again A well-killed Boche.

This is the happy warrior, This is he...