The flicker of her eyelids, and her head
That gone reflection to the lights
Of dancing halls and picture shows at nights
The perfumed flowers and burning lips are done
Forget it now-you are a soldier son
And yet, out on the sands where moon light plays
When you walk quietly after burning days
And don’t remember much the mad days stir
No man can blame you if you think of her
Vast desert night! And in your hut you lay
To dream of her-forgetting heat of day
And out there where the moon is shinning pale
Alert is sounded! Sirens shriek and wail
The bombs resound and jar your weary head
And there you crouch! A wicked flash of red
Lights up the windows, Searing, Blinding all
And shakes the photos hanging on the wall !
Over the escarpment in the dark
The Boffa shells explode and ack-acks bark
And more bombs fall and toss you on your bed
You look at her, still smiling, over your head
And curse it all, the droning of the planes
Works up to its crescendo and remains
They pound the night and light the sky and roar
The searchlights cross and flash across your floor
Oh God! How many are there up tonight
The high explosives turn your faces white
Then in the distance, there’s a muffled purr
That grows and swells and rises to a Whirr
And someone finds his voice and with his strains
Of weird, unnatural voice, says, Hurricanes
And over head they come with faintish roar
In flight formation-more and yet still more
Great steaks of silver, Wild ungodly things
And------Crouching in your hut, you think of her
Too scarred to move-too nervous still to stir
Then after goes, so it seems, you hear
The blessed sound, the long drawn out all clear!
And every body moves out and lights a smoke
And tries to treat it as a little joke
And in a strange unnatural voice you say
“Dammed silly of me! They were miles away!”
Your buddy next to you sits up in bed
And wipes the perspiration from his head
So silent after all the air-birds drone
And in a voice unlike his happy own
Says” Ill be Knocked! I’m shaking like a kid
Say did you shake” And you admit you did
Then over head you hear the friendly drone
The grey night fighters slowly winging home
You rush out side and there you see them come
In gay bravado, with their throttled hum
They dive a bit and dip their wings to you
Perhaps one less, than when you saw them go
With front guns spitting, onward at the foe
And way out there some laughing lad has gone
That you might sleep and wake again to dawn
And as they saw away beyond you lines
Your cobber says, “ones gone! The bloody swines !”
Inside again------
The moonlight filtering through
And there’s the photo, smiling still at you
Oh, pray forget it – Yardleys Cash bouquet
The scent she wore, The day you sailed away
For think you not that God sees all the scrap
And looking on say’s, “ don’t you cop that chap ! “
And in a soft and loving father voice
Say, “ He is mine-He’s going back to Joyce.”
