In the West we liked the weather, 'n' we fat- tened in the mud, Crackin' 'ardy, stewed together, rats an' slurry men 'n' blood. Weepin' Willie wouldn't have it these was pleasin' things abed, 'N' he shuddered in his shimmy if they passed him with the dead. When he cried about his mother, in a gentle voice he'd tell Them as dumb-well didn't like it they could go to sudden 'ell. There was nothin' sweet for Willie in a rough- up in the wet; But if all things scared him purple, not a thing had stopped him yet. If some chaps was wanted urgent special dirty work to do Willie went in with a shudder, but he alwiz saw it through. Oh, a busy little body was our Willie in a crush! Then he'd cry out in the night about the faces in the slush. Well they pinked him one fine mornin' with a thumpin' 'unk iv shell; Put it in 'n' all across him. What he was you couldn't tell. I saw him stitched 'n' mended where he whimpered in his bed, 'N' he'd on'y lived because he was afraid to die, he said. Sez he "Struth, they're out there fightin', trimmin' Boshes good 'n' smart, While I'm bedded here 'n' 'elpless. It fair breaks a feller's 'eart." But he came again last Tuesday '-n' we go it in a breath-- "London's big 'n' black 'n' noisy. It would scare a bloke to death." He's away now in the trenches, white 'n' nervous, but, you bet, Playin' lovely 'ands of poker with his busy bay-o-net, 'Fraid of givin' 'n' of takin', 'fraid of gases, 'fraid of guns-- But a champion lightweight terror to the gor- forsaken 'Uns! BILLJIM DOWN to it is Plugger Bill, Lyin' crumpled, white 'n' still. Me 'n' him Chips in when the scrap begins, Carin' nothin' for our skins, Chi-iked as the 'Eavenly Twins- Bill 'n' Jim. They 'ave outed Bill at last, Slugged me cobber hard 'n' fast. It's a kill. See the purple of his lip 'N' the red 'n' oozy drip! Ends our great ole partnership- Jim 'n' Bill Mates we was when we was kids; Camp, 'n' ship, 'n' Pyramids, Him 'n' me Hung together, 'n' we tore Up the heights from Helles shore, Bill a long 'arf head afore, Fine to see! Then it was we took a touch- Simple puncture, nothin' much; But we lay 'N' we stays the count, it seems, In a sorter realm of dreams Where the sun infernal gleams Night 'n' day; Boilin', fryin' achin', dumb, Waitin' till the stretchers come, Patiently. I hangs on to 'arf a cup. Which I wants ole Bill to sup. Damn if he ain't savin' up His for me! When they come to lift my head I am softly kiddin' dead, For a game, So's they'll first take on his gills. Over, though, me scheme he spills- Bli'me, this ole take-down Bill's Done the same! But he isn't kiddin' now, And it knocks me anyhow Seein' him. We was both agreed before, Though it got 'em by the score, Two was goin' to beat this war- But 'n' Jim.