War's a joke for me and you,
While we know such dreams are true.
Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death, -
Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,-
Pardoned his spilling mess-tin in out hand.
We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,-
Our eyes wept, but out courage didn't writhe.
He spate at us with bullets and he's coughed
Shrapnel. We chorused when he San aloft,
We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
We laughed at him, we laughed with him, old chum.
No solider's paid to kick against His powers.
We laughed, - knowing that better men would come,
And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
He wars on Death, for lives; not men,for flags.