Now me and Bob , we become best chums
Right from the second we met
He was from right up North, me right down south
We found it kind of hard to understand each other
But somehow how that was all right by us

We took the piss out of each other , somert rotten
Stuff anyone else! they soon regretted it!
And how!
During training Bob , would whisper a piss take of
Our sergeant, who was not amused! Not 'appy at all!
Only I'd catch it what he said , I'd laugh , I could stop me self
I'd just break out of line laughing, trying as I could I could not stop
I would have to full out , holding my sides, I'd be in so much pain in fits of laughing

Sargent put ME on a charge!
Still you've got to laugh , aint your!

I'd get me own , back , soona or later!

We got sent to France , had not been there long
Me chum , and me, though he called me his pal
When were spotting Jerrys to pop ,
Me chum was a bit of a good shot , he'd wonted to be a sniper
I was looking out , a daft , thing to do , I agree
Me chum was just behind me , ready with his rifle
I heard a crack of rifle bullet
I thought it was me chum so I said '' you missed , him , Bob ''
Bob, did not reply , I look around , only to see the wall of the trench
I notest , a red splosh , with what look like to me tapioca with strawberry jam
Sliding down the trench wall , like me old mum slaming me dads Sunday dinner
Against the wall
Funny what you think of at such times , aint it
No Bob , I looked down , saw , me chum , laying there
Top of his head was gone , shot off , his brains , lay , bear, fly's , already Gathering

I , bent down , held him to be , tears , ran down my checks
We laid , Bob on a stretcher , cared him away , dug his grave
Laid Bob in his grave , said a few words , made a marker , with his name
A stray shell , soon put pay to his grave

I was never to laugh no more

Ken D Williams

The Dyslexic Wordsmith