10861: Poems by Rifleman Harry Wheeler

<p dir="ltr">Two poems written by Rifleman Harry Wheeler of the 17th Battn of the London Regiment to the contributor's grandmother, Eileen Young, when she was a nurse at the Bevan Hospital in Kent. </p><p dir="ltr">UP YOU GO <br>Up you go with the best of luck <br>When you said "goodbye" to the ward, <br>Back you go to the mud and muck <br>When you are passed fit by the "Board", <br>You have to go and your eyes are wet <br>Your "swallers" choked and your teeth are set, <br>"Goodbye" my mates, you ain't dead yet <br>So up you go with the best of luck. </p><p dir="ltr">Up you go with the best of luck <br>Your lucky to have the chance, <br>You're bustled into a cattle truck <br>And back to the boys in France <br>Cold quay sides are a dreary sight, <br>Your pals look pale in the cold 'arf light <br>Press on your butts and dress by the right, <br>And up you go with the best of luck. </p><p dir="ltr">Up you go with the best of luck <br>To do your bit once more <br>Chance you luck because you have the pluck <br>As you've always shown before <br>For when you've done a spell out there, <br>You're a better man to do and dare <br>Than a chap whose asleep in a slacker's chair, <br>So up you go with the best of luck. </p><p dir="ltr">Up you go with the best of luck <br>And here's to a safe return, <br>Lucky for us you ain't struck Like the men, whose bread you earn, Back to the fighting, back to the "line", <br>While dodgers hide and cowards whine, <br>The sun is bright and the weather's fine<br>So up you go with the best of luck. </p><p dir="ltr">YPRES 1917 <br>On 16th May I was injured at Ypres, <br>There were others too - wounded and killed, <br>But to tell you all would give you the creeps, <br>And you would with horror be filled. </p><p dir="ltr">So I lay on the ground and looked up at Heaven, <br>And a vision came to me, <br>I could see my dear wife and children at home, <br>But I am glad they could not see me. </p><p dir="ltr">But now I'm alright, in Blighty again, <br>And I'm getting on quite fine, <br>This hospital is named Bevan, and its like being in Heaven <br>After what I've been through up the line. </p><p dir="ltr">I often think of days gone by, <br>When all the world was at peace, <br>But now things are changed and I often sigh, <br>And wonder when this war will cease. </p><p dir="ltr">The sights I have seen I shall never forget, <br>Nor the noise of the shrapnel shell, <br>The terrible gas and the liquid fire, yet It cannot be worse in hell.</p><p dir="ltr">There are many sad hearts in England today, <br>And in our Allies homes as well, <br>But when peace is declared - that longed for day, <br>There will be terrible tales to tell. </p><p dir="ltr">I've been in the "line", had enough of it too, <br>To last me for many a day, <br>The horrible scenes which were only too true, <br>Have taught many a man to pray.</p>