Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish youâ€™d say, Because Iâ€™d like to know that youâ€™re all right. Tell me, have you found everlasting day, Or been sucked in by everlasting night? For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain; I hear you make some cheery old remarkâ€” I can rebuild you in my brain, Though youâ€™ve gone out patrolling in the dark.
You hated tours of trenches; you were proud Of nothing more than having good years to spend; Longed to get home and join the careless crowd Of chaps who work in peace with Time for friend. Thatâ€™s all washed out now. Youâ€™re beyond the wire: No earthly chance can send you crawling back; Youâ€™ve finished with machine-gun fireâ€” Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack.
Somehow I always thought youâ€™d get done in, Because you were so desperate keen to live: You were all out to try and save your skin, Well knowing how much the world had got to give. You joked at shells and talked the usual â€˜shop,â€™ Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine: With â€˜Jesus Christ! when will it stop? Three years ... Itâ€™s hell unless we break their line.â€™
So when they told me youâ€™d been left for dead I wouldnâ€™t believe them, feeling it must be true. Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said â€˜Wounded and missingâ€™â€”(Thatâ€™s the thing to do When lads are left in shell-holes dying slow, With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache, Moaning for water till they know Itâ€™s night, and then itâ€™s not worth while to wake!)
. . . . Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God, And tell Him that our Politicians swear They wonâ€™t give in till Prussian Ruleâ€™s been trod Under the Heel of England ... Are you there?... Yes ... and the War wonâ€™t end for at least two years; But weâ€™ve got stacks of men ... Iâ€™m blind with tears, Staring into the dark. Cheerio! I wish theyâ€™d killed you in a decent show.