THE POWER OF A CIGARETTE

Writen in 1915 by British Soldiers

'Tis Yuletide out in the trenches, the night is cold and drear.
With never a sign from our sturdy line, of the foeman who lurks so near.
Our boys they are staunch and ready, though chilled to the bone and wet,
But their eyes grow bright as they place a light to a Woodbine cigarette.

Merely a pinch of tobacco encased in a paper shell,
But it has a power in the midnight hour the soldier alone can tell
For it whispers of dear old England; of home, and his heart's desire
And it seems to show in its ruddy glow the gleam of a homestead fire.

It brings to his mental vision the faces of those he loves,
And he softly sighs as he clasps his eyes on his tattered and war torn gloves.
It speaks to him too of friendship, and colleagues who ne'er forget
And his heart grows glad as the soldier lad inhales from his cigarette

'Tis Yuletide out in the trenches, the enemy close at hand,
But he quite forgets while his cigarettes whisper softly of Motherland.