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And when the shells are coming fast,
I'm afraid I'm smelling gas
Each shell is coming near
Seems to have my name in letters large & small
And when the shells are flying near
I'm afraid I'm stopping here
Machine gun bullets are whistling around me,
The old tin hat seems mighy small
Inside I'd like to crawl
And hug the ground like porus [sic] plaster
My head feels heavy & my knees weak,
I bite my tongue every time I speak
When the shells are dropping near
I'm afraid I'm stopping here
In No Mans Land where you hear
that shell hole rag