The Happy Warrior
(A SOLILOQUY) SOMEWHERE IN THE ANZAC ZONE
I
In my sandy dug-out by the sea
Of Saros beyond Samothrace,
I’m as happy as happy can be,
And I’m bent upon washing my face
Before I go into my tea;
But the water’s so scarce in this land
That we do all our washing with sand—
And we always have sand in our tea.
II
In my fly-filled dug-out by the sea
Near Anzac, beyond Samothrace,
Both the cook and colonel agree
That you must have some semblance of grace
At breakfast, at dinner, and tea,
To prevent you from damning the eyes
Of the savage and pestilent flies—
For you always have flies in your tea!
III
In my shell-swept dug-out by the sea
Of Saros, beyond Samothrace,
I’m as happy as happy can be,
Tho’ the shrapnel comes flying apace
Over moorland and mountain and lea—
For I wish you to quite understand,
Tho’ the hens have vacated the land,
Yet we always have shells with our tea!