<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">The Baleful Bard</h1><h1 align="" class="head">or the Muse Munition-Making</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">TIME was when squatting in a noisome ditch,</p><p class="line">I used to while away monotonous days</p><p class="line">By writing many doggerel lyrics, which</p><p class="line">Were set to various untuneful lays,</p><p class="line">And the rude soldiery who heard them sung</p><p class="line">In billets, when we rested from the fight,</p><p class="line">Picked up the words from me, and then gave tongue</p><p class="line">Waking with discord all the quiet night,</p><p class="line">And sang them, thinking it tremendous fun,</p><p class="line">Unto the musical and writhing Hun.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And I've been told, and can believe it true,</p><p class="line">That once, as they intoned these songs of mine,</p><p class="line">The Germans heard and trembled, for they knew</p><p class="line">What men were these who came into the line,</p><p class="line">And sent a message to our Colonel,</p><p class="line">Saying the thing was worse than what the Tanks were;</p><p class="line">He answered, begging them to go to Hell.</p><p class="line">And thus we took that village on the Ancre</p><p class="line">(This line is bad, but I have not the time</p><p class="line">Or dictionary to find a proper rhyme.)</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And now sequestered in this quiet nook,</p><p class="line">I struggle to instruct the wise Cadet</p><p class="line">In bombing (not according to the book)</p><p class="line">Patrols and how most surely to revet</p><p class="line">The crumbling trenches on the local hill,</p><p class="line">And oft to the jocund piano's strain,</p><p class="line">I mount upon the platform with a will</p><p class="line">To sing those ancient songs of mine again,</p><p class="line">And place, obedient to my country's call,</p><p class="line">A deadlier strafer in their hands than all.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">For these young officers shall find the pote</p><p class="line">A weapon to avenge the nation's wrongs,</p><p class="line">And they with many a discordant note</p><p class="line">Shall chant in many a trench my poignant songs;</p><p class="line">And the pale enemy (to whom I fear</p><p class="line">For the rhyme's sake I must refer as " Hunes")</p><p class="line">Shall tremble in their deep dug-outs to hear</p><p class="line">Across the night those wild untuneful tunes,</p><p class="line">And shall beseech their officers and cry,</p><p class="line">" Let us retire at once, or else we die."</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">But lo, there comes a yet more dreadful day,</p><p class="line">When with his pleasant months of Blighty o'er,</p><p class="line">The bard shall lift his pack and hie away</p><p class="line">To land again upon the Gallic shore,</p><p class="line">And set his ribald muse to work anew,</p><p class="line">And fresh atrocities shall vex the Huns,</p><p class="line">And men shall sing them as they used to do</p><p class="line">The while from Bosche to Bosche the whisper runs</p><p class="line">Down the whole line from Belgium to Champagne,</p><p class="line">" The man who wrote those songs is out again."</p></div></body></html> · Great War