Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3832/Home Thoughts from the Trenches

by C. Conway Plumbe

HOME THOUGHTS FROM THE TRENCHES.

Old mother mine, at times I find
 Pauses when fighting's done
That make me lonesome and inclined
To think of those I left behind—
 And most of all of one.

At home you're knitting woolly things
 They're meant for me for choice;
There's rain outside, the kettle sings
In sobs and frolics till it brings
 Whispers that seem a voice.

Cheer up! I'm calling, far away;
 And, wireless, you can hear.
Cheer up! you know you'd have me stay
And keep on trying day by day;
 We're winning, never fear.

Although to have me back's your prayer—
 I'm willing it should be
You'd never breathe a word to spare
Yourself, and stop me playing fair;
 You're braver far than me.

So let your dear face twist a smile
 The way it used to do;
And keep on cheery all the while,
Rememb'ring hating's not your style—
 Germans have mothers too.

And when the work is through, and when
 I'm coming home to find
The one who sent me out, ah! then
I'll make you (bless you) laugh again,
 Old sweetheart left behind.

 

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