THE DAY’S ROUTINE.

Taihape Daily Times, 5 December 1917, Page 6

THE DAY’S ROUTINE.

(From a Taihape Boy, “Somewhere

in France.”) I shall write you just a ditty Of the routine me-an-you; It’s not just as dt used to he, *, The everlasting stew. No, it’s something more exciting, 'And not so nice to take, It consists of great ‘Jack Johnsons’ Of a thousand different makes. Our breakfast chiefly starts at dawn, With an open-slather fire — You’d think the earth was going to burst As these ‘Johnsons’ spin up higher. You hear them whizzing through the air, Then, with one mighty crash, They land right in the trenches, And the parapet they smash. Then as the day wears slowly on, And we prepare for lunch, We get at least three courses— All served up in a bunch. They will not serve them singly, As we think they ought to do; They serve some machine gun fire With high explosives, too. Some shrapnel and their 303, They pour it in all day, And the only place on earth you’re safe, Is in your bunk to lay. Now supper at night is a five-course meal, All served up smoking hot, With a 12 inch gun to dish it up, And land it on the spot. Then there’s their eighteen pounders, And their whizz-bang fire, too, With the minniewerfers for dessert, To fill the me-an-you. All these thus end the programme, And wo settle down to rest, And make the best of our bad lot, In these trenches in the West.