Burnley Great War Poets

The Men who stay at home at ease

By Herbert Gavin


The men who stay at home at ease,
Can go to bed just when they please,
Have lots of ‘bacca and of beer,
But yet I’d rather be out here.

The chaps that stay at home and dine,
Have lots of victuals and of wine,
With walnuts “shelled” and all good cheer,
But it’s better to be “shelled” out here

The chaps who stay - the lucky dogs,
Can stroll about in tailored togs,
But though my make-up may be queer,
I’d rather be a scarecrow here.

The chaps who stay at home can play,
At tennis throughout the summer’s day,
And ne’er fall, bleeding to the rear,
Yet it is finer to be bleeding here

Sweethearting - oh ! You lucky chaps,
Who go a-wooing ! Well perhaps,
Unless I get a nasty scratch,
I’ll get a girl when I come back.

Why yes ! Who knows ? There still may be,
Some girl to love a bloke like me,
There’s a girl I know would shed a tear,
If I went under way out here.

The men who stay at home at ease,
May list, or enlist as they please,
For me - oh Heaven ! With conscience clear,
I much prefer to die out here.


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