E was Earth which I found in my hair
As I woke in the morning and crawled from my lair.
F were the Fleas, and also the Flies,
Who feed on a fellow wherever he lies.
G were the Gripes that gripped me within—
The result of commodities packed in a tin.
H was the Hole that a howitzer made;
It would take me an hour to fill in with a spade.
I was the Idiot who stuck up my head
Before I was taught to take cover instead.
J was the Jam with our rations and rum—
We found it was almost invariably “Plum.”
K was the Knowledge I quickly acquired
Of hiding whenever the enemy fired.
L was the Louse that lurked in my vest,
Reconnoitred my person, and tickled my chest.
M was the Monitor, firing at night,
Which kept me awake when “above” didn’t bite.
N was the “Night stunt,” with trembling heart,
Expecting each moment the Maxims would start.