Rookie rhymes, by the men of the 1st and 2nd provisional training regiments, Plattsburg, New YorkPlattsburgh Barracks (N.Y.)
History
Rookie rhymes, by the men of the 1st and 2nd provisional training regiments, Plattsburg, New York
Plattsburgh Barracks (N.Y.)
American poetry -- Collections; World War, 1914-1918 -- Poetry
"No! I'll ask you if I want you;
Never mind the hands.
Warnock, _you_ are Sergeant Hill,
Just call out your commands."
"Whitney! Warnock! Gee, what luck!"
I chortled in my glee.
My name is Brown, t'was very plain
He'd never get to me.
So I listened to the questions
And the answers one by one,
And wondered if that 3rd degree
Was ever to be done.
I thought of cups with handles on,
Of napkins and clean hands;
I thought of all the pretty girls
That live in _Christian_ lands.
I thought of cakes, and pies, and things,
I thought of home in pain,
And wondered if I'd ever sleep
Till 9 o'clock again.
I wished I had some lager beer
Or a nice silver fizz;
When, "Mr. Brown, you tell us
What a special order is."
I rose, saluted, brushed my pants
Then mutely gazed around.
I stood transfixed; the Captain said
"_Sit down, Mr. Brown!_"
SUNDAY IN BARRACKS
Little silences
Sit in the corners
Munching their finger tips.
I lie stretched flat upon my bunk....
I count the cracks in the pine-boards above me.
I am alone.
These others who fill the air with talk
About right and wrong ... life and death ...
With heavy-nailed footsteps
And sometimes heavier profanity ...
What becomes of them on Sunday?
Dinners ... the beauty of women ...
Pretty talk.
Camaraderie beside the lake ... fellow for fellow,
What does it matter?
My little silences slide along the floor ...
Clamber up my bunk
To grin at me in my loneliness.
Then I think of the millions
Who have none for whom to be lonely,
French, English, German, Russ....
What does it matter the language?
We are all one,
Levelled in solitude.
And I laugh at the silences,
And laugh to see them scurrying back to their corners,
Gibbering.
THE BALLAD OF MONTMORENCY GRAY
I
Since we came to Plattsburg Training Camp
Upon the 12th of May,
A lot of clever candidates
Have fallen by the way;
But the strangest fall among them all
Was Montmorency Gray.
II
Monty was a clever lad,
As bright as bright could be;
He came up days ahead of time--
Ahead of you and me--
And got in strong right from the start.
O a clever lad was he!
III
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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