After Christmas fifteen man Boesinghe Line,
Canadians here gassed by Bosche, the swine,
Christmas gifts unopened in each dug-out,
Letters from sweethearts, wives, mothers, no doubt!
Stranded in ‘No man’s Land’ Canada guns,
See Poelcappelle Ridge there, held by the Huns.
Along our front Ypre Canal stretches,
Pontoon Bridge links with ‘Sacrifice’ trenches.
Sighted on that bridge are Bosche machine guns,
‘Streak across like hares for your lives my sons?’
A furlong there, access very dicey!
Men peril share, stand in water icy.
‘Suicide Trench’, gun emplacement is manned,
Forty-eight hours stint for Sacrifice band,
Give timely warning should Germans attack.
Troops on Canal Bank hold, drive the foe back!
Other gun sites in strategic stations,
Reconnaissance flights fear spot locations.
Crump! Crash! Bosche barrage pounds Canal redoubts,
Wrecks dug-outs, emplacements, makes waterspouts!
Platform rebuild, shells burst in the Ypre,
Fountains arise, aroma no rumour!
Anon, comes lull in artillery fire,
‘Life’s getting dull, o’er Pontoon Bridge enquire’.
Captain cries, ‘Come with me, o’er the bridge run,
Speed quickly, find out what the Hun has done.
Gun emplacements destroyed, not a soul here.
Found other apartments, this is quite clear!’
‘Men found fresh cover, where on earth are they?’
Could not discover, so retraced out way,
Back to the gun ‘vantaged on Canal Bank,
Fire at, when sighted, Germans on left flank.
Bosche gripped in deep mud, no further advance,
Shot where they stood, others refire askance,
Hun barrage returns, destroys Pontoon bridge.
‘What of our comrades, cut off on yon’ ridge?’
Troops swim across, unheeding foul waters.
Matthews struggles back, he never falters,
Swimming, now wading, with weapon on back,
Arrived with only the gun saved, alack!
Fresh troops take over, Fritz heightens the blitz,
Sergeant yells, ‘Out of it’, curses and spits,
‘Leave now these trenches, march back to Pop’ringhe’,
Tired as we are, not too downcast to sing.