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MATEY
(Cambrin, May, 1915.)
Not comin' back to-night, matey, And reliefs are comin' through, We're all goin' out all right, matey, Only we're leavin' you. Gawd ! it's a bloody sin, matey, Now that we've finished the fight, We go when reliefs come in, matey, But you're stayin' 'ere to-night.
Over the top is cold, matey—
You lie on the field alone,
Didn't I love you of old, matey,
Dearer than the blood of my own 119 |
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