Page 166 - wir60
P. 166
BIVOUAC BLUES
As I crouch by me Hexamine heater,
And smell as it bubbles and stews
Me dixie of curried mosquiter,
I’m singin’ me Bivouac Blues.
For we marched as the dawn lightened wanly
Through cloudbanks with scarcely a chink;
But the Fairmile crept late into Manly
And we lorst ’alf our gear in the drink.
Then we cheered as we waved to the lasses
As their tears washed right down to their necks;
But the Workboat spat odorous gases,
As we ’eaved wot we’d et, on its decks.
Then our landin’, be George, was a wet ’e,
Though ’twere lucky we lorst not much blood,
For the tide bad left dry round the Jetty.
And we waded ashore through the mud.
To the Phutt-nik we ’oofed ’elter-skelter
To shield it from ’arm or attack;
Then with poncho and string built our shelter
As showed us by Doug. Rex and Mac.
Then the foe took a shot with ’is mortar
From an ’ill overlookin’ our flank,
So we ’urried to mix it, and slaughter
With the Bren and an ’andful of Blank.
Then up came a slight bit of bungle—
But not due, on the whole, to our chaps,
Who got lorst in some bog in the jungle
Wot wasn’t marked right in our maps.
Then we ran to our poncho and bed-roll,
Afeared what the night-time would bring,
And we crept to our gun-pit and fox ’ole
And we fenced round the Phutt-nik with string.
Then up to our snug little possie
To join with the foe in support
For our blood came the first Coochie mossie
With 'is sandflies for fighter escort.
And up from the barmy ’orizon
Came Nature in wrath once again
When sharp ’gainst the moon palely risin’
Flashed the lightnin’s and thunders of rain.
How we cringed and slid deep in our bed-rolls
As the rain soaked our blankets and ’eads
Ami crept cold as a frog in our fox ’oles
And made ice of our bodies and beds.
So at dawn by me ’examine ’eater
’Alf frozen and drinkin’ ’ot brews
I’m chewin’ on curried mosquiter
And singin’ me Bivouac Blues
— Shakespeare.
83