All they’ll take off when they bury you deep.
Boots, belt, rifle, and pack.
Boots that went light down the Suffolk lane
Will shuffle and drag ere they tread it again.
Nails that rang gay on the cobbled street
Will have pierced through the sock into somebody’s feet.
Boots, belt, rifle, and pack.
Belt—for water-bottle and sword:
One to save life; the other—oh, Lord!
’Fore you’ve finished with them, you bet,