Tommy Atkins’ Way

January 3, 2008

He was battle-scarred and ugly with the marks
of shot and shell,
And we knew that British Tommy had a stirring
tale to tell,
So we asked him where he got it and what dis
arranged his face,
And he answered, blushing scarlet : ” In a nawsty
little place ”
There were medals on his jacket, but he wouldn’t
tell us why.
” A bit lucky, gettin’ this one,” was the sum of
his reply.
He had fought a horde of Prussians with his
back against the wall,
And he told us, when we questioned : ” H’it
was nothing arfter h’all.”
Not a word of what he’d suffered, not a word
of what he’d seen,
Not a word about the fury of the hell through
which he’d been.
All he said was : ” When you’re cornered, h’and
you’ve got no plyce to go,
You’ve just got to stand up to it! You cawn’t
‘elp yourself, you know.
” H’it was just a bit unpleasant, when the shells
were droppin’ thick,”
And he tapped his leather leggins with his little
bamboo stick.
” What did H’l do ? Nothing, really ! Nothing
more than just my share;
Some one h’else would gladly do it, but H’l ‘ap-
pened to be there.”
When this sturdy British Tommy quits the battle
fields of earth
And St. Peter asks his spirit to recount his deeds
of worth,
I fancy I can hear him, with his curious English
drawl,
Saying : ” Nothing, nothing really, that’s worth
mentioning at h’all.”

Posted in The Path to Home