Stories from Salonika and Gallipoli, item 8

• May 12, 2017 22:28:54 C Weddo

  Poor Paul if I might mention, must be dull of comprehension,

  To waste his ritious elequence on depraved degenerates.

  The men, unclean and nauceating, disease expectorating.

  And the women, well in charity I'll say just profligates.

  
  

  Our time for speculation was of infinatesimal duration,

  For word came from up the country reinforcements required there,

  So we hastely proceded, where our aid was badly needed,

  and our mode of locomotion bore the sobrique "Shanks Mare."

  
  

  We advanced without elation, for the Lord of all creation

  In the making of the world at this portion didnt shine

  Over mountain hill and gully, food, dog biscuits and bully.

  Till eventually we reached a place they told us was the line.

  
  

  There we contacted the Bulgar, uncouth, unwashed and vulgar,

  His one reommendation being impartiality

  Whether Lord or Duke or Barron or a poor lad from Kilbarron,

  They all got similarity in hospitality.

  
  

  The night of our arrival was a miracle of survival,

  You would think that we were Royalty arriving on the spot,

  With Giant Artillery thunder, almost shaking hills asunder,

  And brilliant eluminations, most assuredly twas hot.

  
  

  To show our appreciation and powers of recipracation
  

  Our guns retaliated with a most tremendous noise
  

  And for hours without cessation administered castigation

  With the most diabolical contrivances mans art could devise.

  Murderous intentions satiated pandemonium abated.

  We enumerated casualties, fortifications we renewed

  Then exhausted to prosteration, from our strenous occupation

  We saught refuge in our dugouts for a restful enterlude.

• February 20, 2017 23:28:39 Romeo Graham

  Poor Paul if I might mention, must be dull of comprehension,

  To waste his ritious elequence on depraved degenerates.

  The men, unclean and nauceating, disease expectorating.

  And the women, well in charity I'll say just profligates.

  
  

  Our time for speculation was of infinatesimal duration,

  For word came from up the country reinforcements required there,

  So we hastely proceded, where our aid was badly needed,

  and our mode of locomotion bore the sobrique "Shanks Mare."

  
  

  We advanced without elation, for the Lord of all creation

  In the making of the world at this portion didnt shine

  Over mountain hill and gully, food, dog biscuits and bully.

  Till eventually we reached a place they told us was the line.

  
  

  There we contacted the Bulgar, uncouth, unwashed and vulgar,

  His one reommendation being impartiality

  Whether Lord or Duke or Barron or a poor lad from Kilbarron,

  They all got similarity in hospitality.

  
  

  The night of our arrival was a miracle of survival,

  You would think that we were Royalty arriving on the spot,

  With Giant Artillary thunder, almost shaking hills asunder,

  And brilliant eluminations, most assuredly twas hot.

  
  

  To show our appreciation and powers of recipracation

  Our guns retaliated with a most tremendous noise

  And for hours without cessation administered castigation

  With the most diabolical contrivances mans art could devise.

  Murderous intentions satiated pandemonium abated.

  We enumerated casualties, fortifications we renewed

  Then exhausted to prosteration, from our strenous occupation

  We saught refuge in our dugouts for a restful enterlude.

  
  

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• February 20, 2017 23:26:09 Romeo Graham

  Poor Paul if I might mention, must be dull of comprehension,

  To waste his ritious elequence on depraved degenerates.

  The men, unclean and nauceating, disease expectorating.

  And the women, well in charity I'll say just profligates.

  
  

  Our time for speculation was of infinatesimal duration,

  For word came from up the coundtry reinforcements required there,

  So we hastely proceded, where our aid was badly needed,

  and our mode of locomotion bore the sobrique "Shanks Mare."

  
  

  We advanced without elation, for the Lord of all creation

  In the making of the world at this portion didnt shine

  Over mountain hill and gully, food, dog biscuits and bully.

  Till eventually we reached a place they told us was the line.

  
  

  There we contacted teh Bulgar, uncouth, unwashed and vulgar,

  His one reommendation being impartiality

  Whether Lord or Duke or Barron or a poor lad from Kilbarron,

  They all got similarity in hospitality.

  
  

  The night of our arrival was a miracle of survival,

  You would think that we were Royalty arriving on the spot,

  With Giant Artillary thunder, almost shaking hills asunder,

  And brilliant eluminations, most assuredly twas hot.

  
  

  To show our appreciation and powers of recipracation

  Our guns retaliated with a most tremendous noise

  And for hours without cessation administered castigation

  With the most diabolical contrivances mans art could devise.

  Murderous intentions satiated pandemonium abated.

  We enumerated casualties, fortifications we renewed

  Then exhausted to prosteration, from our strenous occupation

  We saught refuge in our dugouts for a restful enterlude.

  
  

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• February 20, 2017 23:20:11 Romeo Graham

  Poor Paul if I might mention, must be dull of comprehension,

  To waste his ritious elequence on depraved degenerates.

  The men, unclean and nauceating, disease expectorating.

  And the women, well in charity I'll say just profligates.

  
  

  Our time for speculation was of infinatesimal duration,

  For word came from up the coundtry reinforcements required there,

  So we hastely proceded, where our aid was badly needed,

  and our mode of locomotion bore the sobrique "Shanks Mare."

  
  

  We advanced without elation, for the Lord of all creation

  In the making of the world at this portion didnt shine

  Over mountain hill and gully, food, dog biscuits and bully.

  Till eventually we reached a place they told us was the line.

  
  

  There we contacted teh Bulgar, uncouth, unwashed and vulgar,

  His one reommendation being impartiality

  Whether Lord or Duke or Barron or a poor lad from Kilbarron,

  
  

  
  

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