The Birth-Place of a Song.
The Birth-Place of a Song.
The third bit of trench of this chapter has a claim to fame as the birth-place of a song. The song was one which only British soldiers could have concocted, and none but British soldiers would have sung. It had no known author and no known composer. It sort of "growed," like Topsy. If it had had a title given to it I suppose it would have been called "I want to go home," for that was its dirge-like refrain, always sung very cheerfully indeed, or with mock earnestness. Time and again I heard its chorus taken up with terrific gusto from end to end of this trench, and the whole extraordinary composition spread to other trenches like a contagion. Its popularity was instant and enduring—and as unaccountable as the popularity of many other popular songs. I think I quote the inspired words of the chorus correctly:—
"I want to go home,
I want to go home—
Tho' the Jack Johnsons and shrapnel
May whistle and roar,
I don't want to go in the trenches no more;
I want to be
Where the Alleymonds can't catch me:
Oh my!
I don't want to die—
I want—to go home."
Three rifles are deposited on the steps of the fireplace—the usual position for rifles when not in hand, dropped inside canvas bags, bayonets protruding—kept well greased, to prevent them from getting rusty.