Hi, Jan
Glad you like it.
WHAUP - a bird -a curlew
LIRK - a fold or crease - so the field is in the fold of the hills.
Hope that helps,
Marina

Thanks Marina,
Everything clear now. Words are fascinating things and curlews one of my favourite birds. Will now go back and read the poem again.
Jan

"The Labour Battalion"


We're working 'pon the Blackcourt Road, wi' shovel an' wi' pick,
An' Corp'l Giles from Hatherleigh directing with his stick.
'Tes one long line o' traffic up, another long line down;
'Bus an' carts for all the world like London town,
Horses an' marchin' infantry an' batteries of guns,
Goin' up to teach good manners to they nasty-minded 'Uns;
Lorries an' trains an' motor cars, for miles an' miles an' miles,
"'Tes like a year of market-days", says I to Corp'l Giles.

We makes the roads, an' mends the roads, an' makes 'em all again,
The traffic tests 'em all abroad, wi' one good shower o' rain
We scrapes off mud, and strows our stone beneath the grinding wheel,
[The sweat runs down behind our ears, we'm muck from caps to heels]
We'm deaf, an' halt, an' some's half-blind, an' Corp'l Giles he's lame
[The smart young gunners laugh at us, which seems to me a shame]
"But Lord!, who minds 'em laughing? If 'twasn't for such as we,
How would 'em get their gun's to front", says Corp'l Giles to me.

They goes up sweatin' in the sun, or singin' through the rain,
An' when they change Divisions some come singin' back again.
An' some stays where the wooden crosses mark the last advance,
[There's lines o' little crosses all across the North o' France]
An' past the singin' boys the Red Cross motors go,
Packed full o' quiet bandaged forms, an' rollin' very slow.
It makes 'ee sad...."An' yet, ye knows, if it wasn't for such as we,
They wounded wouldn't ride so smooth", say Corp'l Giles to me.

----Capt. Maurice Drake in "London Opinion"


[Source: Yorkshire Evening News, Tuesday, November 14, 1916, p. 4]

It's a bit of a shakey start [for me, anyway], but I especially like the final verse. I wonder what happened to Maurice Drake?

Kind Regards,
Dave

Last verse is good - that sudden switch of mood - very effective.

Oh, ey up! I haven't got my thinking cap on again. 'Capt. Maurice Drake' is probably a pen-name, isn't it?
I've recently posted a poem-tribute on another thread ['The Yorkshire Eleven']. Will it be okay to transfer it, once the 'KOYLI's' have had a glimpse, and perhaps given some feedback on who these 'Eleven' were?

Kind Regards,
Dave

I looked up maurice drake of CWGC - no sign of him. If that's his real name, then he survived. If it isn't, we'll never know....

No harm in the poem being placed in two places - this thread is for poetry obviously, but if you request info, then it's better on another thread as well. I thin it;s really good to have unknown poems as well as the famous ones - gives them an airing after all these years. Keep finding them!
Marina

The Hodgson is great but so raw , personal and poignant that to consider it or critique it as poetry is beyond me - and I must say I feel the same about most of the work that it technically good enough to be considered "poetry". The stuff that might technically be considered doggerel gains a dignity because of it's subject matter and is elevated because of this. So again, it is difficult because of this. I find Great War poetry a difficult subject !

Interesting thoughts there, Ian. But I reckon the main thing about poetry is enjoyment and never mind what literary critics say. If it speaks to you, or touches you or whatever, then it works and that is the function of poetry. Poetry can capture many moods and many voices and if the fancy takes you, you can critique and examine techniques. Or you can just read it and like it.

Marina

Thanks Marina.
There's inspiration there for a novice and a skeptic like "me s'en" [Yorkshire: "myself"] I'm including a poem here from "C". It was taken from 'The Gryphon' [Leeds University Journal] Vol. 20, No. 2. December 1916, p. 20. Title: "O.T.C."


"Fall in". "Tenshun", the Sergeant cried,
I trembingly obeyed,
I know before my number dried,
The terrors of Parade.

We marched and wheeled around the square,
Each trying to excel.
The eagle eye was always there,
And piercing words as well.

At last consoling word, "Dismiss",
My belt felt rather slack,
When lo! Command, "fall in for Swiss",
The drill that tries your back.

It proves your joints and tests your pluck
With twists to shame a monkey;
I've lost my appetite, worst luck,
And found that of a donkey.

Our Sergeant's sense of drastic means
Appears to be outraged,
But where there's will there's way it seems
And success it is presaged.

And strange, I'm growing daily fit,
My weight must be a to;
Of course deduct my normal bit;
The rest to crush the HUN.

Regards,
Dave

Sorry!

Sixth verse, second line should read:

"My weight must be a ton"

Dave

He does sound teed off, doesn't he? Anyone know what Swiss drill is?
Marina

Hi Marina,
'Swedish Drill'. Think of it in terms of 'Poetry in Motion', although for many bods, such as those in the military, including prisoners, borstal boys and schoolchildren, Swedish Drill was all but compulsory, and was the favoured form of physical exercise from the late-19th C. onwards. It also had a practical and cost-effective side to its use, and there was no need for fancy equipment or special facilities; just one instructor, a parade ground or playground, and a group of compliant and docile bodies-but that was the point.

It was also taught at University level, and formed part of the Final Examination on the 'Theory of Gymnastics and the History of Physical Education', and below is an exract from the 'Curriculum' of the Yorkshire College in Leeds, which is also known as the Carnegie College of Physical Education [A name that used to instill dread into me when at primary and middle school in the late 60s and early-to-mid 70s]

Theory of Gymnastics and History of Physical Education
1] The general principles, aims and effects of educational gymnastics with special reference to the Swedish System
2]The classification of exercises according to their effects.
3]The principles of 'table construction and of progression.
4]The principles and methods of conducting gymnastic training; commanding, teaching and class organisation.
5]Some historical study of physical education. The Greek ideal, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and after, the modern conception of physical education as exemplified by the practice in various countries.
6] A review of the services and agencies concerned in the promotion of physical health and development of the school child. The organisation and administration of physical education, central and local. School Camps and Play Centres.

[Board for the Final Examination of Students in Yorkshire Training Colleges, Regulations and Syllabuses, 1936, pp.65-66] Cited in Leo Connell, 'A Century of Teacher Training in Leeds, 1875-1985' [Leeds: Leeds Metropolitan University, 1995] p.417


Did I mention something about 'Poetry in Motion'? Although I suspect this didn't mean anything to the Drill Instructor, and he probably carried on regardless. Much the same for P.E. Teachers, who I am convinced forgot everything learnt once graduated [Have you seen 'Kes', the 1969 film directed by Ken Loach-if you have, then I'm sure you'll know what I mean]

Kind Regards,
Dave

it all sounds rather dreadful!
Marina

GALLIPOLI


TED EGAN OAM

The word's on every soldier's lips - GALLIPOLI
The landing boats leave the ships - GALLIPOLI
Rifles held in nervous grips
Eerie gleam of bayonet tips
The Anzacs hit the coastal strips - GALLIPOLI

Atop the cliffs is Johnny Turk - GALLIPOLI
Peering through the mist and murk - GALLIPOLI
Human nature goes berserk
When soldiers know they mustn't shirk
Killing's just a job of work - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS
Boys, boys, warlords' toys
Pawns in the war-games of history
But they're bold, bold,
They'll do as they're told
A legend's in the making at Gallipoli.


Hit the beach, the rising sun - GALLIPOLI
This is real, the talking's done - GALLIPOLI
Every man a mother's son
But give each one a bloody gun
They'll kill each other just for fun - GALLIPOLI

Scale the cliffs, pounding hearts - GALLIPOLI
The shelling and the slaughter starts - GALLIPOLI
Crazy feats of derring-do
Out of all the madness grew
The story of the Anzacs at Gallipoli

CHORUS

And on the 24th of May - GALLIPOLI
Postpone the killing for a day - GALLIPOLI
Bury the dead: Let us pray
Bid young Johnny Turk " G'day "
Termorrer he's the one you'll slay - GALLIPOLI

They say old soldiers never die - GALLIPOLI
But young ones do, and I ask why - GALLIPOLI
With this battle finally done
Not an inch of ground was won
And bones lie bleaching in the sun - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS

The lords have played the game before - MONOPOLY
Scan the maps, keep the score - CATASTROPHE
Cognac and cigars galore
If they were made to fight the war
They'd very quickly call "Withdraw!" - IMMEDIATELY

And when the silence comes again - GALLIPOLI
Pity those who are insane - GALLIPOLI
Count the wounded, treat the pain
A hundred and forty thousand slain
Heroes all, but dead in vain - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS


THEN ERIC BOGLE'S "AND THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA"

The General and In Flanders Fields
and the one about the flying ace (the young boy) up in the sky (sorry cannot remember what it was but the words say it all)
Susan.

Don't thiunk I know this one. Do you now any of the words, Susan?
Marina

Does it start

"After the turn of the Century in the clear blue skies over Germany???

If that's it I think it was sung by the Royal Guardsmen

Is it this one?

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above:
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love:
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

W B Yeats


Jon

Jon - Yes, that is the one that came into my mind. But, stupidly got it muddled with another as below:

Thanks......


Marina - Oops;;;;; made a faux pas..... the other poem as follows - but was 2nd WW. You probably know it but ......

High Flight
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and
swung
High in the sunlit silence; hovering there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle ever flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God......

Ah, well, wrong war - no wonder I coudn't get!
Marina

Not exactly written in Iambic Pentameter - but here's a trench poem from the 1/6th Sherwood Foresters c1915

“Sir – just a few lines to let you know that all the Chesterfield boys are all in the pink and have a song every night. They all wish to be remembered to all their friends. We wish you to put the little song of ours in the Derbyshire Times. We composed it in the trenches and it is sung to the tune of “My little grey home in the West”

In my little wet home in the trench,
Where the rest are continually drenched,
There’s a dead cow nearby with her hoofs to the sky,
And she kicks up a terrible stench.
Underneath there’s a place called the floor
There’s a mass of some mud and some stones
And the shells dropping there,
There’s no place to compare
With my little home in the trench

There are snipers that keep on the go,
So you must keep your nappers down
And the shells by night make a dance of the light
And cause some nice language to flow
The bully and biscuits we chew
For its months since we tasted a stew
And the “Jack Johnsons” are ???
There’s no place to compare
With my little wet home in the trench.

Marina

few

This was composed by 805 Corporal James Drummond BURNS, 21st Battalion AIF, around the time of enlisting (2 February 1915). It was included in a Memorial Booklet that contains anecdotes and some of his works.

Corporal Burns was killed in action at Gallipoli on Saturday, 18 September 1915, and lies in Shrapnel Valley Cemetery.

FOR ENGLAND

The bugles of Enland were blowing o'er the sea,
As they had called a thousand years, calling now to me;
They woke me from dreaming in the dawning of the day,
The bugles of England - and how could I stay?

The banners of England, unfurled across the sea,
Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me;
Storm-rent and battle-torn, smoke-stained and grey,
The banners of England - and how could I stay?

O, England, I heard the cry of those that died for thee,
Sounding like an organ-voice across the winter sea;
They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way,
England, O England - how could I stay?

yes of course

thanks vauxhaul

Hi Wayne
Do you have a copy of his other works? I've only ever seen 'For England'.
I've been gathering info on him in regard to my project on the 'Southland' - he survived it's torpedoing on the 2nd Sept - only to be killed weeks later at Gallipoli.
Cheers, Frev

Mike

Woops!

pattern of each stanza seems to be rhyme on 1 and 4 , 7 and 8

substitute 'rare' for 'few' ?

Hello Frev !

Thanks for your interest. With regards your question, yes, I do have a few more of his works. In fact I actually have an original copy of the Memorial Booklet itself, which is entitled "In the Dawning of the Day".

This particular copy was sent by his father to a 'Cousin Maggie' and bears a hand-written dedication dated 19 September 1916.

Regards

Wayne

This is my absolute favorite 'military themed' poem. The sentiments expressed in the verses say it all - regardless of race, religion, etc. and have a special meaning for me.

NOT A HERO
(Clyde Hamilton)

The ANZAC Day march was over - the old Digger had done his best
His body ached from marching - it was time to sit and rest
He made his way to a palk bench and sat with lowered head
A young boy passing saw him - approached and politely said
"Please sir do you mind if I ask you what the medals you wear are for ?
Did you get them for being a hero, when fighting in a war?"

Startled, the old Digger moved over and beconed the boy to sit
Eagerly the lad accepted - he had not expected this !
"First of all I was not a hero," said the old Digger in solemn tone
"But I served with many heros, the ones that never came home
So when you talk of heros, it's important to understand,
The greatest of all heros gave their lives defending this land"

"The medals are worn in their honour, as a symbol of respect
All Diggers wear them on ANZAC Day - it shows they don't forget"
The old Digger then climbed to his feet and asked the boy to stand
Carefully he removed the medals and placed them in his hand
He told him he could keep them - to treasure throughout his life
A legacy of a kind - left behind - paid for in sacrifice

Overwhelmed the young boy was speechless - he couldn't find words to say
It was there the old Digger left him - going quietly on his way
In the distance the young boy glimpsed him - saw him turn and wave goodbye
Saddened he sat alone on the bench - tears welled in his eyes
He never again saw him ever - but still remembers with pride
When the old Digger told him of heros and a young boy sat and cried

This poem is the first featured in "Other Banners" an anthology of Australian Literature of the First World War, by J T Laird [awm & agps 1971].
The notes on authors mentions that the poem was first published in the 'Scotch Collegian', which Burns had edited as a student, and comments on "In the Dawning.."

The anthology includes several of my favourites, Vance Palmer [Farmer remembers the Somme], C J Dennis, Leon Gellert together with explanatary accounts from those who were there such as Bean Idriess and Frank Dalby Davison.

Hello Vauxhaul !

Thank you for the extra information about the poem by J.D. BURNS. I would be interested in reading what the authors of "Other Banners" had to say about him and the Memorial Pamphlet "In the Dawning of the Day".

Is there any chance you could post the information here - or perhaps email it to me ?

Regards

Wayne

Gladly

James Drummond Burns [1895-1915] was educated at Scotch College, Melbourne. His poem "For England!" was first published in May 1915 in the "Scotch Collegian" of which Burns had been editor in 1913 and 1914. The poem was susequently reprinted in many periodicals and anthologies, and became one of the best known poems of the Great War. It also appears in the volume "In the Dawning of the Day", a memorial edition in honour of Burns, published in 1916, which contains a number of poems by Burns and tributes from those who had known him.

In "For England" and his prose writings for the "Scotch Collegian" Burns enthusiastically supports the Public School ideal of selfless devotion to the corporate entity, be it school, country or Empire.

In February 1915, Burns went into camp at Broadmeadows, and on 8 May sailed from Australia with his battalion. He subsequently embarked from Egypt for Gallipoli at the end of August. Ten days after landing, he was shot in the head. A tribute from 'a fellow soldier' tells us that "He died through being too brave".

.........

Incredibly, the only other selection in the anthology with England in the title, was from Zora Cross, next alphabetically in the notes on authors. The item is titled "England! For ever on your lips" and is an extract from her "Elegy on an Australian Schoolboy" which commemorates the death of her younger brother in WW1

Vauxhaul,

Thank you for taking the time to post this extract.

Regards

Wayne

I didn't see this one in any postings. I was looking up information on the 3rd Battle of Krithia in Gallipoli in a book, and this poem flew out at me. It was exactly what I was looking for! I don't know how somebody could of described that attack on June 4th, 1915 any better. Please note, "Towards a New Offensive" is the title of a chapter in the book, not the poem!

-Ski

Hevn't seen that one before - strong stuff, Teamski.
Marina

Does anyone know the titles of the two volumes of War poetry that AP Herbert published?
Jerry

http://www.answers.com/topic/a-p-herbert
Marina

Thanks Marina for the link, can't find the title of his two poetry anthologies though although I have a feeling one was called Bomber Gipsey and other Poems .......
Jerry

Because, above and beyond all, the war would have been lost in a twinkling had it not been for those who created the modern army from the chaos of the Boer War, those who equipped, those who trained, and those who fought: The Old Contemptibles, Lions and Donkeys both, AE Houseman speaks to me:

EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES.

These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when Earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.
RIP Old Army.

Half Hours At Helles - the other one?
Marina

Powerful one, Grumpy.
Marina

Nice one Guys - many thanks.
Jerry

Can anyone identify this poem and its author please?

I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died

Your uniform, branch of service, it matters not to me
Whether Volunteer or Conscript, or how it came to be
That politicians failures, or some power-mad ambition
Brought you too soon to your death, in the name of any nation


You saw, you felt, you knew full well, as friend and foe were taken
By blinking death, that your life too, was forfeit and forsaken
Yet on you went and fought and died, in your close and private hell
For Mate or Pal or Regiment and memories never to tell


It was for each other, through shot and shell, the madness you endured
Side by side, through wound and pain, and comradeship assured
No family ties, or bloodline link, could match that bond of friend
Who shared the horror and kept on going, at last until the end


We cannot know, we were not there, it's beyond our comprehension
To know the toll that battle brings, of resolute intention
To carry on, day by day, for all you loved and hoped for
To live in peace a happy life, away from blinking war


For far too many, no long life ahead, free of struggle and pain and the gun
And we must remember the price that was paid, by each and every one
Regardless of views, opinions aside, no matter how each of us sees it
They were there and I cannot forget, even though I did not live it


I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died.

Derek, it speaks volumes does it not?

Teamski, that also says what the men felt about Gallipoli.

Kim

I found this Derek ! .... it says Kenny Martin ............... and in another reference it said 2003 !!

http://www.cabarfeidh.com/2006/07/war-poem-of-week_31.html

Annie

Annie,
You're a genius - thank you

Kim,
It does indeed:

We cannot know, we were not there, it's beyond our comprehension
To know the toll that battle brings, of resolute intention
To carry on, day by day, for all you loved and hoped for
To live in peace a happy life, away from blinking war

Annie,
The poem is also on this website:
http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/RemembranceB.ht...W%20YOUR%20NAME

It states that the poem was written by Kenny Martin following a visit he made with his son to Commonwealth War Graves in the Arnhem/Oosterbeek/Nijmegen area of Holland - his first ever poems.

What a talent.

May I direct people to here.

http://1914-1918.invisionzone.com/forums/i...showtopic=62726

Eric has posted this and it is well worth reading.

Kim

I also like his other war epitaph:



It says it all about the Great War.