MEMORIAL TABLET
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GREAT WAR) Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight,(Under Lord Derby's Scheme). I died in hell--(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight,And I was hobbling back; and then a shellBurst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fellInto the bottomless mud, and lost the light. At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare;For, though low down upon the list, I'm there;'_In proud and glorious memory_' ... that's my due.Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:I suffered anguish that he's never guessed.Once I came home on leave: and then went west...What greater glory could a man desire?
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