To fill the trenches thou thyself hast made
And roll the twisted wire in even coil.
But not for thee the glory and the praise,
The medals or the fat gratuity;
No man shall crown thee with a wreath of bays
Or recommend thee for the O.B.E.;
And thou, methinks, wouldst rather have it so,
Provided that, without undue delay,
They let thee take thy scanty wage and go
Back to thy sunny home in Old Cathay;