Pope & Bristowe

  “Over the Top”

  Ten more minutes! – Say yer prayers,
  Read yer Bibles, pass the rum!
  Ten more minutes! Strike me dumb,
  'Ow they creeps on unawares,
  Those blooming minutes. Nine. It's queer,
  I'm sorter stunned. It ain't with fear! 

  Eight. It's like as if a frog
  Waddled round in your inside,
  Cold as ice-blocks, straddle wide,
  Tired o' waiting. Where's the grog?
  Seven. I'll play yer pitch and toss –
  Six. – I wins, and tails yer loss.

  'Nother minute sprinted by
  'Fore I knowed it; only Four
  (Break 'em into seconds) more
  'Twixt us and Eternity.
  Every word I've ever said
  Seems a-shouting in my head.

  Three. Larst night a little star
  Fairly shook up in the sky,
  Didn't like the lullaby
  Rattled by the dogs of War.
  Funny thing – that star all white
  Saw old Blighty, too, larst night.

  Two. I ain't ashamed o' prayers,
  They're only wishes sent ter God
  Bits o' plants from bloody sod
  Trailing up His golden stairs.
  Ninety seconds – Well, who cares!
  One –
  No fife, no blare, no drum –
  Over the Top – to Kingdom Come!

  “The Call”

  Who's for the trench –
  Are you, my laddie?
  Who'll follow French –
  Will you, my laddie?
  Who's fretting to begin,
  Who's going out to win?
  And who wants to save his skin –
  Do you, my laddie?

  Who's for the khaki suit –
  Are you, my laddie?
  Who longs to charge and shoot –
  Do you, my laddie?
  Who's keen on getting fit,
  Who means to show his grit,

  And who'd rather wait a bit –
  Would you, my laddie?