WW1 Poetry

Discussion in 'World War 1' started by liverpool annie, Jan 24, 2009.

  1. liverpool annie

    liverpool annie New Member

    What a poignant legacy for "My Three Kids " .......... :(

    I am writing this tonight, My three kids
    By a little candle-light, My three kids
    And the candlestick's a tin
    With some dry tobacco in
    And so that's how I begin, To three kids
    Now I wonder what you're at, My three kids
    Moll and Bids and little Pat, My three kids
    Why of course there's two asleep
    But perhaps Moll's thinking deep
    Watching little starts that peep, At my kids
    Since I left you long ago, My three kids
    There's a lot you'd like to know, My three kids
    That has happened to your dad
    In the varied luck he's had
    In adventures good and bad, My three kids
    I have soldiered in a trench, My three kids
    Serving under Marshall French, My three kids
    Once a shell dropped with a thud
    Quite close, covered me with mud
    And its lucky 'twas a dud, For my kids
    And I've crossed the ground outside, My three kids
    It's at night that's chiefly tried, My three kids
    And the bullets sang all round
    Overhead, or struck the ground
    But your daddy none has found, No my kids
    I have mapped our trenches new, My three kids
    And some German trenches too, My three kids
    I have sprinted past a wood
    Counting steps, for so I could
    Judge the distance, as I should, My three kids
    I have placed our snipers where, My three kids
    On the Germans they could stare, My three kids
    And they killed their share of men
    Quite a lot for snipers ten
    From their little hidden den, My three kids
    And I've slept in bed quite warm, My three kids
    But I haven't taken harm, My three kids
    When upon the ground I lay
    Without even straw or hay
    In the same clothes night and day, My three kids
    When they sent us back to rest, My three kids
    Then they seemed to think it best, My three kids
    To send on your dad ahead
    To discover where a bed
    Could be found, or some old shed, My three kids
    And new officers were trained, My three kids
    And the men we've lately gained, My three kids
    And while that work was in hand
    I was second in command
    Of B Coy and that was grand, My three kids
    But it didn't last all through, My three kids
    There was other work to do, My three kids
    When they made me adjutant
    I was busy as an ant
    And its not much catch, I grant, My three kids
    I have ridden on a horse, My three kids
    Captured from a German force, My three kids
    And I've marched and crawled and run Night and day in rain and sun
    And shall do it till we've won, My three kids
    And I'd rather be with you, My three kids
    Yet you know I'm lucky too, My three kids
    Lots of men I used to know
    Now are killed or wounded, though
    I remain, and back I'll go, To my kids
    And I hope you'll all keep well, My three kids
    Just as sound as any bell, My three kids
    And when this long war is done
    We shall have some glorious fun
    Moll and Bids and little son, My three kids

    Captain Robert Stewart Smyle, Royal Scots Fusiliers
    Born Birmingham.
    Raised and educated in Ballymena.
    Taught at Daventry Grammar School, Lewisham House School, King Edward's School, Chelmsford.
    Latterly headmaster Subury Grammar.
    A former Essex Territorial Officer.
    Killed in action 14th July 1916.

    Early on 14 July Smylie led C Company of the 1st Royal Scots Fusiliers into position near a quarry to the north of Montauban. The battalion was in support and did not advance until around 07.00. When they moved forward onto the slopes of Longueval Ridge, they suffered heavy casualties. Five officers were killed, including Smylie. They were buried close to the nearby road but the grave was later moved to Flatiron Copse Cemetery.


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