Great War Poetry

[marina]

Hi, Jan

Glad you like it.

WHAUP - a bird -a curlew

LIRK - a fold or crease - so the field is in the fold of the hills.

Hope that helps,

Marina

[Jan Nix]

Thanks Marina,

Everything clear now. Words are fascinating things and curlews one of my favourite birds. Will now go back and read the poem again.

Jan

[Guest mruk]

"The Labour Battalion"

We're working 'pon the Blackcourt Road, wi' shovel an' wi' pick,

An' Corp'l Giles from Hatherleigh directing with his stick.

'Tes one long line o' traffic up, another long line down;

'Bus an' carts for all the world like London town,

Horses an' marchin' infantry an' batteries of guns,

Goin' up to teach good manners to they nasty-minded 'Uns;

Lorries an' trains an' motor cars, for miles an' miles an' miles,

"'Tes like a year of market-days", says I to Corp'l Giles.

We makes the roads, an' mends the roads, an' makes 'em all again,

The traffic tests 'em all abroad, wi' one good shower o' rain

We scrapes off mud, and strows our stone beneath the grinding wheel,

[The sweat runs down behind our ears, we'm muck from caps to heels]

We'm deaf, an' halt, an' some's half-blind, an' Corp'l Giles he's lame

[The smart young gunners laugh at us, which seems to me a shame]

"But Lord!, who minds 'em laughing? If 'twasn't for such as we,

How would 'em get their gun's to front", says Corp'l Giles to me.

They goes up sweatin' in the sun, or singin' through the rain,

An' when they change Divisions some come singin' back again.

An' some stays where the wooden crosses mark the last advance,

[There's lines o' little crosses all across the North o' France]

An' past the singin' boys the Red Cross motors go,

Packed full o' quiet bandaged forms, an' rollin' very slow.

It makes 'ee sad...."An' yet, ye knows, if it wasn't for such as we,

They wounded wouldn't ride so smooth", say Corp'l Giles to me.

----Capt. Maurice Drake in "London Opinion"

[source: Yorkshire Evening News, Tuesday, November 14, 1916, p. 4]

It's a bit of a shakey start [for me, anyway], but I especially like the final verse. I wonder what happened to Maurice Drake?

Kind Regards,

Dave

[marina]

Last verse is good - that sudden switch of mood - very effective.

[Guest mruk]

Oh, ey up! I haven't got my thinking cap on again. 'Capt. Maurice Drake' is probably a pen-name, isn't it?

I've recently posted a poem-tribute on another thread ['The Yorkshire Eleven']. Will it be okay to transfer it, once the 'KOYLI's' have had a glimpse, and perhaps given some feedback on who these 'Eleven' were?

Kind Regards,

Dave

[marina]

I looked up maurice drake of CWGC - no sign of him. If that's his real name, then he survived. If it isn't, we'll never know....

No harm in the poem being placed in two places - this thread is for poetry obviously, but if you request info, then it's better on another thread as well. I thin it;s really good to have unknown poems as well as the famous ones - gives them an airing after all these years. Keep finding them!

Marina

[ianw]

The Hodgson is great but so raw , personal and poignant that to consider it or critique it as poetry is beyond me - and I must say I feel the same about most of the work that it technically good enough to be considered "poetry". The stuff that might technically be considered doggerel gains a dignity because of it's subject matter and is elevated because of this. So again, it is difficult because of this. I find Great War poetry a difficult subject !

[marina]

The Hodgson is great but so raw , personal and poignant that to consider it or critique it as poetry is beyond me - and I must say I feel the same about most of the work that it technically good enough to be considered "poetry". The stuff that might technically be considered doggerel gains a dignity because of it's subject matter and is elevated because of this. So again, it is difficult because of this. I find Great War poetry a difficult subject !

Interesting thoughts there, Ian. But I reckon the main thing about poetry is enjoyment and never mind what literary critics say. If it speaks to you, or touches you or whatever, then it works and that is the function of poetry. Poetry can capture many moods and many voices and if the fancy takes you, you can critique and examine techniques. Or you can just read it and like it.

Marina

[Guest mruk]

Thanks Marina.

There's inspiration there for a novice and a skeptic like "me s'en" [Yorkshire: "myself"] I'm including a poem here from "C". It was taken from 'The Gryphon' [Leeds University Journal] Vol. 20, No. 2. December 1916, p. 20. Title: "O.T.C."

"Fall in". "Tenshun", the Sergeant cried,

I trembingly obeyed,

I know before my number dried,

The terrors of Parade.

We marched and wheeled around the square,

Each trying to excel.

The eagle eye was always there,

And piercing words as well.

At last consoling word, "Dismiss",

My belt felt rather slack,

When lo! Command, "fall in for Swiss",

The drill that tries your back.

It proves your joints and tests your pluck

With twists to shame a monkey;

I've lost my appetite, worst luck,

And found that of a donkey.

Our Sergeant's sense of drastic means

Appears to be outraged,

But where there's will there's way it seems

And success it is presaged.

And strange, I'm growing daily fit,

My weight must be a to;

Of course deduct my normal bit;

The rest to crush the HUN.

Regards,

Dave

[Guest mruk]

Sorry!

Sixth verse, second line should read:

"My weight must be a ton"

Dave

[marina]

He does sound teed off, doesn't he? Anyone know what Swiss drill is?

Marina

[Guest mruk]

Hi Marina,

'Swedish Drill'. Think of it in terms of 'Poetry in Motion', although for many bods, such as those in the military, including prisoners, borstal boys and schoolchildren, Swedish Drill was all but compulsory, and was the favoured form of physical exercise from the late-19th C. onwards. It also had a practical and cost-effective side to its use, and there was no need for fancy equipment or special facilities; just one instructor, a parade ground or playground, and a group of compliant and docile bodies-but that was the point.

It was also taught at University level, and formed part of the Final Examination on the 'Theory of Gymnastics and the History of Physical Education', and below is an exract from the 'Curriculum' of the Yorkshire College in Leeds, which is also known as the Carnegie College of Physical Education [A name that used to instill dread into me when at primary and middle school in the late 60s and early-to-mid 70s]

Theory of Gymnastics and History of Physical Education

1] The general principles, aims and effects of educational gymnastics with special reference to the Swedish System

2]The classification of exercises according to their effects.

3]The principles of 'table construction and of progression.

4]The principles and methods of conducting gymnastic training; commanding, teaching and class organisation.

5]Some historical study of physical education. The Greek ideal, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and after, the modern conception of physical education as exemplified by the practice in various countries.

6] A review of the services and agencies concerned in the promotion of physical health and development of the school child. The organisation and administration of physical education, central and local. School Camps and Play Centres.

[board for the Final Examination of Students in Yorkshire Training Colleges, Regulations and Syllabuses, 1936, pp.65-66] Cited in Leo Connell, 'A Century of Teacher Training in Leeds, 1875-1985' [Leeds: Leeds Metropolitan University, 1995] p.417

Did I mention something about 'Poetry in Motion'? Although I suspect this didn't mean anything to the Drill Instructor, and he probably carried on regardless. Much the same for P.E. Teachers, who I am convinced forgot everything learnt once graduated [Have you seen 'Kes', the 1969 film directed by Ken Loach-if you have, then I'm sure you'll know what I mean]

Kind Regards,

Dave

[marina]

it all sounds rather dreadful!

Marina

[Guest Green Bandit]

GALLIPOLI

TED EGAN OAM

The word's on every soldier's lips - GALLIPOLI

The landing boats leave the ships - GALLIPOLI

Rifles held in nervous grips

Eerie gleam of bayonet tips

The Anzacs hit the coastal strips - GALLIPOLI

Atop the cliffs is Johnny Turk - GALLIPOLI

Peering through the mist and murk - GALLIPOLI

Human nature goes berserk

When soldiers know they mustn't shirk

Killing's just a job of work - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS

Boys, boys, warlords' toys

Pawns in the war-games of history

But they're bold, bold,

They'll do as they're told

A legend's in the making at Gallipoli.

Hit the beach, the rising sun - GALLIPOLI

This is real, the talking's done - GALLIPOLI

Every man a mother's son

But give each one a bloody gun

They'll kill each other just for fun - GALLIPOLI

Scale the cliffs, pounding hearts - GALLIPOLI

The shelling and the slaughter starts - GALLIPOLI

Crazy feats of derring-do

Out of all the madness grew

The story of the Anzacs at Gallipoli

CHORUS

And on the 24th of May - GALLIPOLI

Postpone the killing for a day - GALLIPOLI

Bury the dead: Let us pray

Bid young Johnny Turk " G'day "

Termorrer he's the one you'll slay - GALLIPOLI

They say old soldiers never die - GALLIPOLI

But young ones do, and I ask why - GALLIPOLI

With this battle finally done

Not an inch of ground was won

And bones lie bleaching in the sun - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS

The lords have played the game before - MONOPOLY

Scan the maps, keep the score - CATASTROPHE

Cognac and cigars galore

If they were made to fight the war

They'd very quickly call "Withdraw!" - IMMEDIATELY

And when the silence comes again - GALLIPOLI

Pity those who are insane - GALLIPOLI

Count the wounded, treat the pain

A hundred and forty thousand slain

Heroes all, but dead in vain - GALLIPOLI

CHORUS

THEN ERIC BOGLE'S "AND THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA"

[susanhemmings]

The General and In Flanders Fields

and the one about the flying ace (the young boy) up in the sky (sorry cannot remember what it was but the words say it all)

Susan.

[marina]

and the one about the flying ace (the young boy) up in the sky (sorry cannot remember what it was but the words say it all)

Susan.

Don't thiunk I know this one. Do you now any of the words, Susan?

Marina

[Guest Green Bandit]

Don't thiunk I know this one. Do you now any of the words, Susan?

Marina

Does it start

"After the turn of the Century in the clear blue skies over Germany???

If that's it I think it was sung by the Royal Guardsmen

[Take on me]

The General and In Flanders Fields

and the one about the flying ace (the young boy) up in the sky (sorry cannot remember what it was but the words say it all)

Susan.

Is it this one?

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above:

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those that I guard I do not love:

My country is Kiltartan Cross,

My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.

W B Yeats

Jon

[susanhemmings]

Is it this one?

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above:

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those that I guard I do not love:

My country is Kiltartan Cross,

My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.

W B Yeats

Jon

Jon - Yes, that is the one that came into my mind. But, stupidly got it muddled with another as below:

Thanks......

Marina - Oops;;;;; made a faux pas..... the other poem as follows - but was 2nd WW. You probably know it but ......

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and

swung

High in the sunlit silence; hovering there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle ever flew -

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God......

[marina]

Ah, well, wrong war - no wonder I coudn't get!

Marina

[mikebriggs]

Not exactly written in Iambic Pentameter - but here's a trench poem from the 1/6th Sherwood Foresters c1915

“Sir – just a few lines to let you know that all the Chesterfield boys are all in the pink and have a song every night. They all wish to be remembered to all their friends. We wish you to put the little song of ours in the Derbyshire Times. We composed it in the trenches and it is sung to the tune of “My little grey home in the West”

In my little wet home in the trench,

Where the rest are continually drenched,

There’s a dead cow nearby with her hoofs to the sky,

And she kicks up a terrible stench.

Underneath there’s a place called the floor

There’s a mass of some mud and some stones

And the shells dropping there,

There’s no place to compare

With my little home in the trench

There are snipers that keep on the go,

So you must keep your nappers down

And the shells by night make a dance of the light

And cause some nice language to flow

The bully and biscuits we chew

For its months since we tasted a stew

And the “Jack Johnsons” are ???

There’s no place to compare

With my little wet home in the trench.

[marina]

Marina

[Guest vauxhaul]

few

[Wayne Saillard]

This was composed by 805 Corporal James Drummond BURNS, 21st Battalion AIF, around the time of enlisting (2 February 1915). It was included in a Memorial Booklet that contains anecdotes and some of his works.

Corporal Burns was killed in action at Gallipoli on Saturday, 18 September 1915, and lies in Shrapnel Valley Cemetery.

FOR ENGLAND

The bugles of Enland were blowing o'er the sea,

As they had called a thousand years, calling now to me;

They woke me from dreaming in the dawning of the day,

The bugles of England - and how could I stay?

The banners of England, unfurled across the sea,

Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me;

Storm-rent and battle-torn, smoke-stained and grey,

The banners of England - and how could I stay?

O, England, I heard the cry of those that died for thee,

Sounding like an organ-voice across the winter sea;

They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way,

England, O England - how could I stay?

[mikebriggs]

few

yes of course

thanks vauxhaul