CHAPTER X
SOME TRENCH SONGS
When the singing soldiers of the First British Expeditionary Force marched to the slaughter at Mons in the fall of 1914 singing "Tipperary," they established a precedent which the troops from all parts of the British Empire have maintained. The Canadians were quick to learn the value of songs to fighting men, and some of the many they have given voice to in Flanders are here set down. Most of the parodies were acquired from that redoubtable soldier, Tommy Atkins. Some of them are the invention of Canadian soldier-minstrels.
When the first Canadian division landed in France they marched to Armentieres singing, to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia":
"Hurrah, hurrah, we'll get you, Kaiser Bill; Hurrah, hurrah, your cup of joy we'll spill; The day that you have toasted will be hell let loose when we All go marching through Germany."
Moving west from Fleurbaix to Ypres they sang to the air of "Good-Bye, My Bluebell," as they marched:--
"Good-bye, old Germany, farewell to you, You'll have no Kaiser when the war is through. You'll have no army, no shot and shell, Good-bye, old Germany--and go to----"
There they switched--to please the padre--and chorused gleefully:--
"You're in the army now, You're in the army now, You son of a gun, you'll never be done, You're in the army now."
What happened to the first Canadian division at Ypres during the two weeks following the first gas attack made by the Germans (April 15-22) is an old, and glorious story in the annals of Canadian bravery. The Highland brigade went into the blood-drenched salient to the lilt of:--
"Sing a song of bonny Scotland."
They sang little during the slaughter-pregnant, fight-full days and nights which followed; but at the first halt following their departure from that section of the line (May 5-15), one brave heart sang:--
(Air--Sing Me to Sleep.)
"Far, far from Ypres, I want to be, Where German snipers cannot get me; Think of me crouching, where the shells shriek, Praying for sergeant to sing me to sleep."
During the fierce fighting at Festubert, towards the end of that month, they had learned the trench classic:--
(Sung mock seriously.)
"I want to go home, I want to go home, The bullets they rattle, the cannon they roar, I don't want to go up any more. Take me over the seas, Where the Alleman' cannot get me, Oh, my, I don't want to die, I want to go Home."
About that time they realised that there was little good in the jam issued to the troops in the field, so they joined in with the soldiers of the Imperial Army when those cheery fellows sang:--
"Tickler's Jam, Tickler's Jam, How I love old Tickler's Jam; Sent from England in one pound pots, Packed it is in ten ton lots; Every night when I'm asleep, I'm dreaming that I am Forcing my way through the Dardanelles, With a pot of Tickler's Jam."
Next month they dared to carol (from the "Duck's Bill" salient at Givenchy) with "Fritz" only forty yards away:--
(Air--Hold Your Hand Out, Naughty Boy.)
"Keep your head down, Alleman'; keep your head down, Alleman', Last night in the pale moonlight, I saw you, I saw you; You were fixing up your barbed wire, when we opened up rapid fire; If you ever want to see your dear Germany, keep your head down, you Alleman'."
The first brigade of the first division got badly mauled there. One battalion has been reported as singing the Canadian National Anthem while waiting to go "over the top." What they did sing was a song which has the singer bewailing that there is "No booze to-day."
After the fighting of April-May-June, 1915, the Canucks were moved to a fairly quiet section of the line. Old Ploegstreet Woods have oft re-echoed to the songs they sang there. One of them is still untruthfully sung. It has a mournful refrain, and these are the words of the ditty;--
"If the Sergeant steals your rum, never mind; If the Sergeant steals your rum, NEVER MIND; (loudly wailed) He's had a son of a gun of a time, since they chased him up the line. If the Sergeant steals your rum, NEVER MIND." (With great feeling and a well simulated air of resignation.)
Songs the folks were singing back home began to come to the boys in the trenches about that time, and for a while it seemed that the days of the trench song proper had almost departed. There was one faint-hearted attempt at rhythm about the insect pests, and another to immortalise the "Minnie" (Minenwerfer shell, trench mortar, noiseless in flight, and very destructive), but the minstrel boys came into their own again when the new and old divisions went back again to Ypres. "Blighty" (a word derived from the Hindustani, and having a wide meaning covering wounds, hospitals, home, and Paradise) was much in the mouths of the Canucks, so they sang:--
"Blighty, in dear old Blighty, fair land across the foam, Some people call it England, some people call it home, But we just call it Blighty, dear land across the sea, Where Kaiser William hopes some day his hymn of Hate he'll live to play, In Blighty, so dear to me."
At the Somme a year ago they had a rollicking song to the air of "Chesapeake Bay," wherein they told of hunting Fritz to the Hindenberg line, and they still find time to warble parodies and limericks such as:
"There was a young lady of 'Wipers,' Who was awfully fond of the pipers. At the very first sound, She would follow them round, In spite of the shells and the snipers."
And:
"Sing a song of five francs, Tommy feeling dry, Four and twenty 'Kamerads' standing all close by; When the place was opened, Tommy shouts 'Hooray,' Up comes an M.P.,[3] and orders them away."
Another typical song the British troops sang was:
"Standing in the trenches on a cold winter's night, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? Wiring party working and we darn't show a light, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? Pity the poor old soldier, Pity the poor young soldier, Pity the poor old soldier, Standing in the rain and the cold.
Going reconnoit'ring on a cold winter's night, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? When we meet with Fritzy then there'll be a fight, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? Pity the poor old soldier, Pity the poor young soldier, Pity the poor old soldier, Standing in the rain and the cold.
Burying stiff 'uns on a cold winter's night, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? When the big 'un hit 'em, don't they look a sight, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? Pity the poor old soldier, Pity the poor young soldier Pity the poor old soldier, Standing in the rain and the cold.
Going back to Blighty on a cold winter's night, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? When we get to Blighty, then we'll be all right, Aw Gawblimey, ain't it cold? Pity the poor old soldier, Pity the poor young soldier, Pity the poor old soldier, Standing in the rain and the cold."
The popularity of "My Little Grey Home in the West" brought to birth a dismal parody entitled "My Little Wet Home in the Trench," and many other popular songs have had striking parodies composed on them by the singing Britishers in Flanders.
Those songs have saved many a man from nervous exhaustion, they have cheered the wounded, they have been heard by the dying wherever the British Army has grappled the foe, and they have inspired the mildest mannered man with courage abnormal.
Who would not go "over the top" with men who could sing "I Want to Go Home" as they crouched for the charge across No Man's Land. Who would not fight like knights of old when comrades could sing in face of the foe, "Keep your head down, Alleman'."
America's sons in Flanders will fight all the better when they learn the songs which Britain's sons have sung from Ypres to Gallipoli, in Macedonia and Mesopotamia, India and Egypt; on sinking transports at sea, and in shell-torn trenches on land.
He who sings well will fight well. Perhaps the songs of Uncle Sam's soldiers will be most heard of when the Allies make their final drive, but the simple songs and parodies of the British, Canadian, Australian, New Zealand and South African soldier have re-echoed round the world since "Tipperary" took fearless men to heroes' graves in 1914.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: M.P.--Military Police.]