BrooksLooks @ January 1919

FB_IMG_1495767260861

 

January 1919

There’s a bit of bacon in the teeth
And the mud is squelchin’ soft beneath
A pullin’ out of Couddes in the rain.
The same stone street in the same damn way
With the same dead drill to do today,
A hikin’ outer Couddes in the rain.

It’s light packs, helmets and gas masks too,
With a drinkin’ Sarge to drive each of us through;
Soldierin’ outside Couddes in the rain
I’d give my shirt for a decent smoke,
I’m tired and I’m stinkin’, wet and broke,
A drillin’ outside Couddes in the rain.

There’s slum to-night and my feet are sore,
Why ain’t I gettin’ my mail no more?
Squad’s eastin’ beyond Couddes in the rain;
The poplar’s black agin the sky,
The Skipper’s cursin’. God knows why
I’m pluggin’ outside Couddes in the rain.

A long hike home when the day is done,
The mist may lift and we’ll see the sun,
A comin’ back to Couddes in the rain,
I’ll bum a bottle of rhum to-nite,
And a little brunette to treat me right,
A comin’ out of Couddes in the rain.

© Copyright 1921 Brooks Bradbury

[ Coudes is a commune in the Puy‑de‑Dôme department in Auvergne in central France. My grandfather, Brooks Bradbury, wrote this poem while stationed there during World War I.]

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s