<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">French in the Trenches</h1><p class="byline"> WILLIAM J. ROBINSON <span class="smallcaps">IN The San Francisco Argonaut</span><br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/> Permission to reproduce in this book</p><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I have a conversation book; I brought it out from home.</p><p class="line">It tells you the French for knife and fork and likewise brush and comb</p><p class="line">It learns you how to ask the time, the names of all the stars</p><p class="line">And how to order oysters and how to buy cigars.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">But there ain't no stores to buy in; there ain't no big hotels,</p><p class="line">When you spend your time in dugouts doing a wholesale trade in shells;</p><p class="line">It's nice to know the proper talk for theatres and such,</p><p class="line">But when it comes to talking, why, it doesn't help you much.</p><p class="line">There's all them friendly kind o' things you'd naturally say</p><p class="line">When you meet a feller casual like and pass the time o' day.</p><p class="line">'l'hem little things that breaks the ice and kind of clears the air.</p><p class="line">But when you lose your French book, why, them things isn't there.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I met a chap the other day a--rootin' in a trench,</p><p class="line">He didn't know a word of ours, nor me a word of French</p><p class="line">And how we ever managed, well, I cannot understand,</p><p class="line">But I never used my French book though I had it in my hand.</p><p class="line">I winked at him to start with; he grinned from ear to ear; </p><p class="line">An' he says, "Bong Jour, Sammy," an' I says "Souvenir";</p><p class="line">He took my only cigarette, I took his thin cigar,</p><p class="line">Which set the ball a--rollin', and so--well, there you are!</p><p class="line">I showed him next my wife and kids; he up and showed me his,</p><p class="line">Them funny little French kids with hair all in a frizz;</p><p class="line">"Annette," he says, "Louise," he says, and his tears begin to fall;</p><p class="line">We was comrades when we parted, though we'd hardly spoke at all.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">He'd have kissed me if I'd let him. We had never met before,</p><p class="line">And I've never seen the beggar since, for that's the way of war;</p><p class="line">And though we scarcely spoke a word, I wonder just the same</p><p class="line">If he'll ever see them kids of his--I never asked his name.</p></div></body></html> · Great War