Observer, Volume XXXIX, Issue 25, 22 February 1919, Page 15
(By F. E. BATJME.)
A Tale Only Too True.
They owes me eighty quid And allowance—wife and kid; For I got a good discharge, I'll have you know; I been standin' on the street With the soles ripped off me feet, An' without a blinkin a'penny ter show. Me leg's off at the knee An' the stump's a-swingin' free; I'm a spavined, bleedin' broken kind er cuss; After three .years out in—well, Some blight||||call<s it 'ell; But it's nwPmy place ter make a blinkin' fuss. They sent me 'ome last week, An' I thought it magnifique, For they gave me two pound ten ter 'aye a spree; Now I'm invalided clear, Without a stiver near, An' I've only 'art' o' sixpence fer me tea. I mooches round all day, Then tries ter draw back pay From the red-tabbed, battle-dodgin' tin 'at pen; But they're shrewd as any fish In their pie-on staff posish; And they'll stand no "bally impudence" from men. Boys, I'm not a blinkin' swab, Oo's got a swelled up nob, Just because c's done 'is duty ter the crowd; But I left me leg in France, 'Cos I took a sportin' chance; An' I'm not the bloke ter sing me praises loud. But I'm starvin' mighty near, An' I never touch the beer, So the wowsers they can't s,ay "He's just a drunk;" Straight, I'm absolutely broke, And headquarters makes a joke Of a man who's driftin' quickly down ter junk. So I'm wanderin' round the town, An' me peckers goin , down; Gawd! Wisht I'd never gone ter fight the Hun. No! I'll never take that view, For I'm sure 'tween me and you, I was bloomin' glad ter make the devils run. They owes me eighty quid An' allowance —wife and kid. An' I got a good discharge I'll 'aye yer know. I fought fer them—my oath— For the red-tabbed crew o' sloth; An' I'm starvin' fer the back pay that they owe.