Dated: October 25, 1915
Enclosed is a parody much circulated over here. It absolutely reflects the impression and feelings of the men, and officers as well, in my opinion. The creepy and crawling things are horribly in evidence in the trenches. So far bugs have not bothered many, if any at all; no actual cases have come to my notice as yet, some say it is only a matter of time though
PARODY
SING ME TO SLEEP
Sing me to sleep where bullets fall;
Let me forget the War and all.
Damp is my dugout, cold are my feet,
Nothing but bully and biscuits to eat.
Sing me to sleep where bombs explode
And shrapnel shells are a-la-mode.
Over the sandbags helmets you find,
Corpses in front of you, corpses behind-
Far, far from Ypres I long to be,
Where German snipers cannot pot me.
Think of me crouching where the worms creep,
Waiting for someone to sing me to sleep.
Sing me to sleep in some old shed;
The rats are running around my head.
Stretched out on my waterproof,
Dodging the raindrops through the roof.
Sing me to sleep where the camp fires glow,
When nights are cold and spirits are low,
Dreaming of home and days in the West,
Somebody's overseas boot on my chest.
Far from the star-shells I long to be,
Lights of old London I'd rather see;
Think of me crouching where the worms creep,
Waiting for someone to sing me to sleep.
