"I sees me finish!... War? Why, this ain't war!
It's ferritin'! An' I'm the bloomin' game.
Me skin alone is worth the 'untin' for—
That tart's to blame!
Before we're done, I've got a silly scare,
Some trappin' Turk will catch me in a snare.
"'E'll skin me, wiv the others 'e 'as there,
An' shove us on a truck, an' bung us 'round
Constantinople at a bob a pair—
'Orl fresh an' sound!
'Eads down, 'eels up, 'e'll 'awk us in a row
Around the 'arems, 'owlin' 'Rabbee-oh!'
"But, dead in earnest, it's a job I 'ate.
We've got to do it, an' it's gittin' done;
But this soul-dopin' game uv sit-an'-wait
It ain't no fun.
There's times I wish, if we weren't short uv men.
That I wus back in 'orspital agen.
"Ar, 'orspital! There is the place to git.
If I thort Paradise wus 'arf so snug
I'd shove me 'ead above the parapit
An' stop a slug.
But one thing blocks me playin' sich a joke:
I want another scrap before I croak.
