I got my wind up honey while laying
way out in No Mans Land
And when the shells are coming fast,
I'm afriad 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 plaster
My head feels heavy & my knees
I bite my tongue every time I speak