<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">Where the Trenches Run <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/>Down from the Somme to <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/> the Sea</h1><h1 align="" class="head"><em>Tune</em>--" The Mountains of Morne "</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">OH, Mary, the front is a wonderful place,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Where a person can't fight without shaving his face</p><p class="line">We're not very frightened of shells, so I've found,</p><p class="line">But when generals come near we all get to ground.</p><p class="line">I met one in a trench, and some tea-leaves were there,</p><p class="line">And we got such a strafing it whitened our hair,</p><p class="line">So it seems we must swallow the leaves in our tea,</p><p class="line">Where the trenches run down from the Somme to the sea.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">At night-time I can't sleep a full minute's space,</p><p class="line">For the rats playing games on the top of my face,</p><p class="line">And other small creatures I'd rather not name,</p><p class="line">But they live in the folds of my kilt just the same.</p><p class="line">Tell wee Jimmy, if only our dug-out he knew.</p><p class="line">He'd never be asking to go to the Zoo,</p><p class="line">For every dug-out is a menagerie,</p><p class="line">Where the trenches run down from the Somme to the sea.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">The sap that I stand in, it nightly is made</p><p class="line">Into hell by a thing they call Rifle Grenade,</p><p class="line">And when heavy trench mortars are bursting close by</p><p class="line">It is <em>not</em> lust of battle that gleams in my eye.</p><p class="line">Don't think me a coward though, Mary, my dear,</p><p class="line">For along the whole front it's the same thing I fear,</p><p class="line">And every young hero is funking like me,</p><p class="line">Where the trenches run down from the Somme to the sea.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">At Albert they've lately begun an advance</p><p class="line">Which is going to shove all the Bosches out of France,</p><p class="line">And we are all waiting and hoping some day</p><p class="line">To meet with the gentlemen over the way.</p><p class="line">And oh, what a state of delight we'll be in</p><p class="line">When we're bombing our way up the streets of Berlin,</p><p class="line">So I hope in a few months I surely shall be</p><p class="line">In a train running down from Berlin to the sea.</p></div></body></html> · Great War