(Non-commissioned Officers of the Line)
AT times when under cover I ’ave said,
To keep my spirits up an’ raise a laugh,
’Earin ’im pass so busy over-’ead—
Old Nickel-Neck, ’oo is n’t on the Staff—
“There’s one above is greater than us all.”
Before ’im I ’ave seen my Colonel fall,
An’ watched ’im write my Captain’s epitaph,
So that a long way off it could be read—
He ’as the knack o’ makin’ men feel small—
Old Whistle Tip, ’oo is n’t on the Staff.
There is no sense in fleein’ (I ’ave fled),
Better go on an’ do the belly-crawl,
An’ ’ope ’e ’ll ’it some other man instead
Of you ’e seems to ’unt so speshual—
Fitzy van Spitz, ’oo is n’t on the Staff.
An’ thus in mem’ry’s cinematograph,
Now that the show is over, I recall
The peevish voice an’ ’oary mushroom ’ead
Of ’im we owned was greater than us all,
’Oo give instruction to the quick an’ the dead—
The Shudderin’ Beggar—not upon the Staff!
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.