BrooksLooks @ January 1919

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January 1919

Brooks Bradbury

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.]

About Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

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