Quick-march thro’ Menin Gate
On to Hell-fire Corner.
For Fritz;s blitz don’t wait,
Onward in brisk order!
Follow the railroad track
To trenches turn left-hand,
In ‘Railway Wood’ you’re back.
By you the front-line manned.
‘Zero’ is six a.m.
Sappers blow up Redoubt.
Explosion is a gem
For those who gladly shout!
Not so for blasted Hun,
In pieces blown sky-high.
Earth scattered, many a ton,
Deep crater there nearby.
Now, what’s all this about?
The main advance at Loos,
A feint attack no doubt,
German Reserves, will use.
At once Artillery fire
Rains down on Bosche front line.
Their forces, some retire,
More, to surrender, sign!
The enemy replies,
Strafing our trench system.
Shells of every size
Crump, and whizz-bang, blast ‘em!
Devastating coal-box,
Jagged edge of shell-case.
We feel the dug-out rocks,
Missiles fill the air space!
Our Infantry attack,
Bold o’er parapet leap,
Enemy strong points sack,
Penetrate Hun lines deep.
But Artillery fire
Lacks co-ordination.
Alas! Our men expire,
Killed by us, damnation!
Reserves arrive at speed,
To fill the German gaps.
‘Prussian Guards’ we agreed,
Helmets, not Forage Caps.
Here, many wounded men,
Field Dressing Station bent,
And stretcher-bearers then,
For serious cases meant.
Many a captured German,
For camp to England sent.
Adolf, Fritz, and Hermann.
Their soldier days are spent!
Surprises now in store,
Our Infantry retreat,
Shelled behind, and in fore,
Two foes fail to defeat!
Souvenirs are the prize,
Prussian helmets captured,
Greatly please their eyes,
Readily enraptured!
Follow the Prussian Guards,
Recapture lost trenches.
Pointing our guns towards,
Strafe them from defences!
Checking further advance,
Stalemate it seems, our due.
We wonder if by chance,
At Loos, we’ve broken through.
What of our Artillery?
Some say their gun’s red-hot.
Should they be put in pillory
For shelling the wrong lot!
All things now are quieted,
Prepare to be relieved.
R.B.s here are sighted,
‘Sixtieth’ shortly reprieved.
To Poperinghe, heavy footfalls,
So tired and limp we fail
To indulge in quips, and catcalls,
Or sing ‘The long long trail’!
Thankful in the hop fields
To slump down on straw beds.
Good shelter bell-tent yields,
‘Tis here rest weary heads!
Sweet sleep until the morn
Banish grief and sorrow.
From a new day, fresh born,
Joy, not sadness, borrow!