TALE OF A BROWN JOB

To save myself joining the A.R.P.

I enlisted at Fernabnk as bold as could be,

Knowing nothing of soldiering I donned my khaki,

I quickly decided 'twas no life for me.

Then Chamberlain came home with his piece of paper

Crying "Peace in our Time!" (What! Peace with a dictator)

There was turmoil and shouting and digging of holes,

Excavation of shelters, we all worked like moles.

Then War was declared and on was the fight,

I hared to my post on a lousy Gun Site,

Followed some months of "phoney", of "Bull" and inspection,

When a Heinkel appeared, 'twas in our direction.

We raised our 4.5's, "On Target" was shouted,

We'd bag him for sure, so much was not doubted,

But the "Brig" was inspecting on that Sabbath Day

Said "Muzzle your guns and stick 'em away.

The noise and the shrapnel from 4.5's in action

Will certainly harass church folk to distraction,

Surely you know it's simply not done

To worry poor folk by firing your gun".

So, armed to the teeth with experience and knowledge,

To Tobruk we were posted like freshmen from College,

From England's green fields 'twas a very far cry,

To the fleas and the dust and the ruddy sandfly.

The Stukas came down like wolves on the fold,

'Twas a testing time but it left us cold,

We fired by night and we fired by day,

In hectic efforts to keep Jerry at bay.

Our dreams of relief at last came true,

Alas! Fritz struck back like a bolt from the blue,

From Tobruk we were hurled right back to our base,

With the Boche in pursuit; 'twas an 'orrible race.

But after the spell for re-fit and re-bore,

Old Tommy Atkins was dead keen for more,

At El Alamein the line was then held

With such success that Rommel was felled.

Monty and Alex had ne'er been so pleased

The lads were just as thoroughly cheesed.

Back thro' Buk-Buk, Bardia, and what's more,

Back to the bugs and the Afrika Korps.

Back thro' Tobruk where we'd made our stand,

Back to the flies, and the fleas and the sand,

Once more in advance, we were in such a trance,

Rommel then led us a mine-tripping dance.

But the Afrika Korps had had its day,

And Monty decided new plans right away,

With re-fitting, re-grouping and courses galore,

We soon found ourselves on Sicily's shore.

From the gay signorinas we had great expectations,

But the Yankees were there to upset calculations.

Whatever we did we always drew blank,

We couldn't compete with the gun-chewing Yank.

Then at Salerno we made a swift jab,

'Twas certainly different from Medjez-el-Bab!

So followed a race that went on for miles,

The Boche out in front like a cat on the tiles.

When he stopped then we stopped,

When he ran - then we tore,

It certainly was a rum sort of War.

This cat and mouse game at last came to its end,

Not a moment too soon, we were all round the bend,

My time overseas was near termination,

And not far off was demobilisation.

Back to old England! Eggs, milk and cheese!

Steaks, mixed grills! luscious cream teas!

Sweet were these dreams, but alas! far from true,

For a small piece of cod caused a ruddy great queue.

And our pals all cried out "It's useless to squeal,

You bods overseas had the best of the deal".