Here is a post I put on the other thread, but I thought it should be here as well. A LAMENT
(The Ritz-Loos Saient.)

I WISH the sea were not so wide
That parts me from my love;
I wish the things men do below
Were known to God above.

I wish that I were back again
In the glens of Donegal,
They'll call me coward if I return,
But a hero if I fall.

"Is it better to be a living coward,
Or thrice a hero dead?"
"It's better to go to sleep, my lad,"
The Colour Sergeant said.

That's by Patrick McGill, from Donegal, "the navvy poet", who served in the London Irish Rifles in the Great War as a stretcher bearer. Here is a link to a site with a lot of songs/poems he wrote at the time. Some great ones. He was a fascinating man, who deserves to be far better known. It's also got a fascinating piece by him about the songs his comrades were singing, with examples.

Here are two of those:

THE SOLDIER'S LETTER

I've lost my rifle and bayonet,
I've lost my pull-through too,
I've lost the socks that you sent me
That lasted the whole winter through,
I've lost the razor that shaved me,
I've lost my four-by-two,
I've lost my hold-all and now I've got damn all
Since I've lost you."


SING ME TO SLEEP

Sing me to sleep where bullets fall,
Let me forget the war and all;
Damp is my dug-out, cold my feet,
Nothing but bully and biscuits to eat.
Over the sandbags helmets you'll find
Corpses in front and corpses behind.

Chorus.

Far, far from Ypres I long to be,
Where German snipers can't get at me,
Think of me crouching where the worms creep,
Waiting for the sergeant to sing me to sleep.

Sing me to sleep in some old shed,
The rats all running around my head,
Stretched out upon my waterproof,
Dodging the raindrops through the roof,
Dreaming of home and nights in the West,
Somebody's overseas boots on my chest.