I knew a simple soldier boy

who grinned at life in empty joy

Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,

And whistled early in the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum

with crumps and lice and lack of rum,

he put a bullet through his head

no one spoke of him again.

you smug-faced crowds with kindling eye

who cheer when soldier lads march by,

sneak home and pray you'll never know

the hell where youth and laughter go.