Ten more minutes! – Say yer prayers,
Read yer Bibles, pass the rum!
Ten more minutes! Strike me dumb,
'Ow they creeps on unawares,
Those blooming minutes. Nine. It's queer,
I'm sorter stunned. It ain't with fear!
Eight. It's like as if a frog
Waddled round in your inside,
Cold as ice-blocks, straddle wide,
Tired o' waiting. Where's the grog?
Seven. I'll play yer pitch and toss –
Six. – I wins, and tails yer loss.
'Nother minute sprinted by
'Fore I knowed it; only Four
(Break 'em into seconds) more
'Twixt us and Eternity.
Every word I've ever said
Seems a-shouting in my head.
Three. Larst night a little star
Fairly shook up in the sky,
Didn't like the lullaby
Rattled by the dogs of War.
Funny thing – that star all white
Saw old Blighty, too, larst night.
Two. I ain't ashamed o' prayers,
They're only wishes sent ter God
Bits o' plants from bloody sod
Trailing up His golden stairs.
Ninety seconds – Well, who cares!
One –
No fife, no blare, no drum –
Over the Top – to Kingdom Come!
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Comments
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Sybil Bristowe must have thought long and hard before writing this. The cockney dialect would not have would not have come naturally and she had to 'imagine' what this soldier would say and do. This soldier, who is about to get killed reverts back to his God, gives up the bad language and seems accepting of his fate. It's a touching poem.
Von -
It will be interesting to see if more information is available about this poet, for this poem makes Bristowe's style seem as though it would have been popular in her time! There is humor mixed in with the dread of the final moment of facing death. The white star is a powerful moment in this poem--the moment of dread, of the horror only a war scene can produce. A poem that presents an inner musing of a soldier confronting the realities of the battle field...worth reading a few times just to allow the "sounds" to enter the imagination.
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