大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Nadine from the People鈥檚 War team on behalf of Mrs H Taylor and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

This poem was given to Mrs H Taylor, by another WREN. (NAME NOT SUPPLIED)

ON LEAVING CABBALA (H.M.S.)

Soon, we shall no longer be in this Nautical Academy,
No more 鈥淐oders鈥� dashing by,
Long of tooth and cross of eye,
No more smells, while reading morse,
No more meat, that tastes like horse,

No more rushing to empty bins,
No more blushing at Sailors grins,
No more queuing for baths at night,
No more gumption to get them white,

No more spinning the yarn with Chief,
No more chalk throwing, oh what a relief!
No more hoisting the ensign high!
Under the Captains eagle eye!

No more tearing for liberty boats,
Hair nets keeping hair off coats,
How we鈥檒l miss the scrum in slops,
Still, it鈥檚 cheaper than the shops,

No more fighting in the canteen,
Emerging like a tinned sardine!
No more standing in the gale,
Streaming eyes and faces pale,
Fingers numbed and feet like stone,
A V/S鈥檚 life is one long moan,

With eyes still full of sleep,
To laundry do we slowly creep,
To eat our lunch we rush intent,
鈥楤ut wait鈥� says Chief, the whistle ain鈥檛 went,

Friend Draycott we shall miss no doubt,
It makes yer think, when he鈥檚 about,
Roll on, roll on, the time rolls on,
Yet still they don鈥檛 appear.
Our course is over we鈥檒l soon by gone,
To worser dumps I fear.
Happy Days?

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