War Poetry

Friday 5th March 1915: Corporal W. J. Mayhew of 2nd Bedfords has sent us the following poem “My Little Wet Home in the Trench”. It is a parody of the popular ditty “My Little Grey Home in the West” and was no doubt appreciated by the censor:

My little wet home in the trench,
Where rain streams continually drench;
There’s a dead cow close by
With hoofs turned to the sky,
And it gives off a terrible stench.
On the ground in the place of the floor
There’s lots of wet mud and some straw,
And the J. J.’s they tear(1)
Through the rain-sodden air,
O’er my little wet home in the trench

There are snipers who keep on the go.
So you must keep your napper down low;
For the star shells at night
Make a deuce of a light,
And it causes the language to flow.
Bully and biscuits we chew,
And its weeks since we tasted a stew,
And the shells dropping there –
There’s no place to compare
To my little wet home in the trench 

Now the Germans were sure of success,
But now they are full of distress.
So French(2) gave them a wrench
And they could not entrench;
Then the B and the F(3) did the rest.
While the Germans were shelling Ypres
The Uhlans(4) they crept through the trees,
And to them we gave chase,
Like a marathon race,
From our little wet home in the trench

Source: Bedfordshire Times, 5th March 1915

(1) Jack Johnsons – named after the African-American world heavyweight boxing champion – they were German shells.

(2) Sir John French, commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force

(3) the British and French, presumably

(4) German cavalry equipped with a lance and used for scouting.