"Brown-Bread Tommy"

Poor Tommy Atkins

In trouble

Running round the square

"Double!

"Large pack small pack

Bayonet and scabbard

Bullet pouches all

Buckled upon him.

Rifle overhead

At full stretch

Of his puny arms.

Sergeant Ottley

Drill Sergeant

Or as we said

Drill Pig!

The scourge of the innocent!

Fault finder among the faultless!

The only person

In the British Army,

Certified :-

"Unfit for Human Consumption!"

Pursuing him

With demented shrieks

"Double, double!

Lift that rifle up!

Higher, higher!

Get them knees up!

Higher, higher!"

Poor Tommy demised.

Run into the ground!

Brown-bread,

Dead!

Passed over!

Answered the final question!

Gone for a Burton!

D/D,

Discharged /Dead!

Poor Tommy

After he’d handed back

His rifle and kit

He was posted To Heaven.

Saint Peter said

"Welcome,

You are welcome here

Because you knew hell

On earth."

Crafty Tommy

Peeked in the Gates

Recoiled!

And shuddered!

Up on the throne

Starched and polished

Chevroned and straight!

Ottley!

"I’m not comin’ in there!"

Sez Tommy,

"That’s Sergeant Ottley!"

"No No!"

Saint Peter cried,

"You’ll be alright.

That’s not Ottley,

That’s God!

He just thinks he’s Ottley!

Copyright © Res JFB 29th March 2008