"Now I’m a simple Tommy I thought you’d like a letter from me, Living a silent celibate With 20 others in a hut. My bed of wooden boards and trestles And blankets thick with which one wrestles, While the cold night wind through the door Keeps time to rats that scour the floor. A Sergeant stern with language rude Who tell me that my drilling’s crude, And boots two inches thick, which they make me to clean three times a day. But even hear where bugles ring The Southern lark goes up to sing; And nobly stretch the long white downs O’er looking Hampshire’s famous towns, Where years ago through woods of fir King Alfred rode to Winchester; And hear is haunted, wholly ground Where Arthur held his Table Round, And Ethelbert and Athelstane Drove back the foray of the Dane. And so farewell – if when May comes, And snow-white gleam the garden plums, You run across the yard to school Hair-braided, with your reticule, Then think of me, my little maid, Forming for nine o’ clock parade, And making an egregious hash Of drill and growing a moustache !"
Created by: Selena49658