IT isn't the foe that we fear; It isn't the bullets that whine; It isn't the business career Of a shell, or the bust of a mine; It isn't the snipers who seek To nip our young hopes in the bud: No, it isn't the guns, And it isn't the Huns -- It's the @3mud, mud, mud.@1 It isn't the @3melee@1 we mind. That often is rather good fun. It isn't the shrapnel we find Obtrusive when rained by the ton; It isn't the bounce of the bombs That gives us a positive pain: It's the strafing we get When the weather is wet -- It's the @3rain, rain, rain.@1 It isn't because we lack grit We shrink from the horrors of war. We don't mind the battle a bit; In fact that is what we are for; It isn't the rum-jars and things Make us wish we were back in the fold: It's the fingers that freeze In the boreal breeze -- It's the @3cold, cold, cold.@1 Oh, the rain, the mud, and the cold, The cold, the mud, and the rain; With weather at zero it's hard for a hero From language that's rude to refrain. With porridgy muck to the knees, With sky that's a-pouring a flood, Sure the worst of our foes Are the pains and the woes Of the @3rain@1, the @3cold@1, and the @3mud@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIGHT [AND LOVE] by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON SONNET TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT ... MY INFANT TO ME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE AMERICAN FLAG by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE THE WRECK OF THE DEUTSCHLAND by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE COURTSHIP OF THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BO by EDWARD LEAR THE QUEEN FORGETS by GEORGE STERLING |