The Nervy Nine

Levin Daily Chronicle, 12 March 1918, Page 4

The Nervy Nine

There were eight with mc at Valcartier, Nine of us all in a tent; I could tell you the name of ev'ry one, Of every single son-of-a-gun (And they've all gone somehow one by

Like the ton little nigger boys went) But you -wouldn't know Big Ben from

Jim, Or "Shorty" from Sam, or "Eed

from "Slim," And even Long Alec, you wouldn't

know him, So my breath would bo misspent.

There were nine of camped at West

Down South, And nine of crossed to France; And we grew to savvy each other's gaits When nil of a sudden we fouled the i'ates, And the only one left of all us mates Is me by the grace of Chance! In one short week there were four went West, Four of the whitest, four of the best, Pushing up daisies with all the rest That fell in the big advance. Then Alec got his in a bomb attack And he'll never scrap again; He's over in Blightly merry and bright Lucky, poor chap, it wasn't his' right, We simply could not get him in that night As he lay out there in the rain. Then Bed bobs up and gets himself hit, And tough as he is, I was scared a bit; But we '11 see him again when they pass him fit For the reinforcement train. Then"Ben and Slim went for officers' jobs (How they love a Sam Browne belt!), Now I guess I could beat them both out of sight In holding my men in the thick of a light, But I only just know how to read and write, And I'm damned if I ever spelt. But Ben has dropped an 'V in his life, And I've seen him eat peas with a knife, And the other guy Slim, has some kind of a wife, Arid that's wheer the pinch is felt! And so I'm left alone of the bunch (They called us the the Nervcy Nine). If I have my eye on old Blighty now, Do you blame me ,boys, if I feel somehow A trifle fed up and sick of the row And the fag of the firing line? Ah, if they could only come back again, The men that I knew on Salisbury Plain But they won't, so I guess I must stand the strain Till the Germans give me mine. —From 1 ' Odes to Trifles," by R1 M Eassie.