royal defence corps

[Guest clewlob]

I have inherited a small 7 page printed poem in booklet form entitled Sergeant's Mess Lessness Park Camp.My research leads me to believe it was at Abbey Wood Woolwich.The poem appears to make named references to the men in the camp.The author was H. Deane and it was dated 5th Feb 1917.At around this time my Grandfather, who probably owned this book, lived in Greenwich area and was a sergeant in the Royal Defence Corps/Territorial Force London.Does anybody have more info about the camp or is this poem of any interest to anyone?

[Ice Tiger]

I have inherited a small 7 page printed poem in booklet form entitled Sergeant's Mess Lessness Park Camp.My research leads me to believe it was at Abbey Wood Woolwich.The poem appears to make named references to the men in the camp.The author was H. Deane and it was dated 5th Feb 1917.At around this time my Grandfather, who probably owned this book, lived in Greenwich area and was a sergeant in the Royal Defence Corps/Territorial Force London.Does anybody have more info about the camp or is this poem of any interest to anyone?

Chris

I for one would be interested

Andy

[pjjobson]

Me Too, as I live within a stones throw of Lessness Park. although there are no traces of the camp now, it's all built over with housing.

Phil

[Guest clewlob]

Here's the poem for those who expressed an interest.

I'm guessing that the reference to "Peter" is my grandfather Peter Arnett.

Sergeant's Mess

Lessness Park Camp.

I'm asked to make a few remarks

(The points you'll have to guess, sirs)

About a few old "Jolly Sparks"

Who haunt the Sergeants' Mess, sirs.

At times they make the business hum,

With varying popularities,

If you'll be good I'll tell you some

Of their peculiarities.

Our "Furness" is no furnace, he

Is always nice and proper,

Had he not joined the R.D.C.

He might have been a "Copper."

Although since then He made a stir,

Alas, it came too late, sirs,

He cannot be a Kitchener

But he may yet be "grate," sirs.

Q.M.S. "Barry" knows his "Biz,"

Some careful steps he's taken,

And so he always manages

Somehow to save his bacon.

Upon his stores he fears no man

Will ever make a raid, sirs,

He's hit upon a novel plan

And built a "Barry" cade, sirs.

Our "Brown" is not a green un, no,

He's well read, blithe and bonny,

Should he look black, don't tell him so,

Say "Keep your temper, Johnny."

Three nines are 27, a date

In March he'll ne'er forget, sirs,

When he and his poor hungry mate

Got never a bite or wet, sirs.

We have no Darbies now, but "Jones"

Is here, yet he's no Jonah,

Although he came from Wales, he owns

A little English Donah.

And "Webb" is always in the swim,

Web-footed, neat and spruce, sirs,

Some little ducks ran after him,

Alas they cooked his goose, sirs.

This frost has given us aching bones

And noses like the Aurora,

But have you heard the melting tones

Of our "Frost" singing "Thora?"

And "Conway" too, although I fear

He's sometimes too sonorous,

At 2 a.m. you ought to hear

Him do the Hailstone Chorous

'Twas Noah built an ark they say,

Of wood to keep the wet out,

Our "Rayner" 's built the other way

To take the wet in. "Get out! !"

He loved but in an evil hour,

His fate proved a deceiver,

"Webb" was the fulcrum, "Jones" the power

And "Rayner" had to lever.

The girls are "gone" on our provost,

They say "-There's no one sweeter,"

Always "pro bono publico,"

Now who would insult "Peter?"

And all the Sergeants now declare

He knows his Catechisms,

And if by chance you hear him swear,

'Tis "Little Peterisms."

Our "George" at pudding time comes o'er,

Of grub a fine Inspector,

He'll argue for an hour or more,

Or give a moral lecture.

Sometimes he'll venture on the brink

Of matters sacerdotal,

Like him his rabbits do not drink,

And so must be teetotal.

The "Lewis-Rayner" twins I'm sure

You know each one's a squealer,

And anxiously we're looking for

A perambulator "Wheeler."

When little "Lewis" sings, Ah me!

It's like a Christmas Carol,

I've often wished, when on the spree,

That "Burrell" was a barrel.

Our "Carter" does not carry coal

Though short of that commodity,

When nurses rub his knees his soul

Uneasy is, an oddity.

And "Faux" is no Guy in disguise,

He'll use every contrivance,

To shew you that he's far too wise

With forks to have con-knife-ance.

Hard nuts for "Kernels" to command,

Are R.D. (hardy) R.D.C.'s sirs,

R.A.'s "R. Ayed" in leggings grand,

R aisier to please, sirs.

Upon the "whole," though far away

From better "Halves" and daughters,

You'll find no jollier folks than they

Are when in decent "Quarters."

Before my song is done, there's one

Called Tim, you all must know him,

A rare old "Buckley" 've him alone,

For many a jest we owe him,

For slackers always on the watch

To pulverise and blister,

But to a decent drop o' Scotch

He's no "passive Resister."

At Lessness you will all agree,

We live in harmony, sirs,

If this war's over soon there'll be

Much less necessity, sirs.

And if we get no V.C.,it

Is plain we'll no get cross, sirs,

But each has done his "little bit"

And so there's no remorse, sirs.

I'm sorry Lemmy's not here, he

Might p'rhaps have made things hum, sirs.

They're moving the Artillery

And so he could not come, sirs.

I've tried to fill the gap you know,

To cure your melancholy,

So do not shoot, or "Lemmy" go

Before you fire the volley.

Our ' Eley" is a jolly old soul,

He'll give you many a tip, sirs,

And "Calthorp" knows when short of coal

A safe cure for the "pip" sirs.

What's in a name? some Davis, sire

Per chance raised "Randal Davison"

From "Prior" some Reverend Father Frior

May spring to bless and save his son.

Sure 'tis to trace one's long descent

A curious theme to get on,

For " Kent" is not a "Man of Kent,"

And "Brett" is not a Breton,

And "Hulse" from Ulster did not come,

And "Craft" is not a sailor,

And 'tis a fact unknown to some

That "Taylor" 's not a tailor.

We have not caught the Kaiser yet,

But we have little ' Willey."

The "Knight" who stoops to make a bet

Is stupid, if not silly.

Though Tommy "Dodwell" you may know

An "Emptage" in your pocket

Is the result oft times, and so

Just do your best to block it.

Our "Pearce" appears much better now

Thanks to a lovely nurse, sirs,

When he got well he wished somehow

He was a little worse, sirs.

And "Maxted" likes to "die, die, die,"

He does it so uniquely,

But "Hodgson" says "It's all my eye"

To say that "Pearson" 's weakly.

Our comrades fought a "Noble" fight

And "Miles" of ground they've won, sirs

For King and Country, God and Right

Against the German Hun, sirs.

And now we long for balmy "May"

To "Berry" all our sorrow,

That Peace may crown the well-fought day

And bring a glad to-morrow.

And now pray will you all excuse

My garrulous verbosity,

And for my efforts to amuse

Bear me no ani-" Moss "-ity.

And as a "Deane" before I go,

No further law transgressing,

There's nothing else for me to do

But just pronounce the Blessing.

5th Feb., 1917 H Deane