I‘m back in old Givenchy -John Scott
Cracks that gag “Tho` rain is falling some day soon the sun will shine.”
Finds amusement in recalling fun and games behind the line.
And the old folk read the writing, glad the youngster keeps his grip;
Picture him among the fighting, keeping a stiff upper lip.
Though he writes so gay and hearty, ‘course they know it‘s only bluff-
That this ain‘t no blooming party, and he finds it pretty tough!
Maybe his heart DOES beat quicker as his supper he prepares,
By the Tommy - cooker‘s flicker, while his Oxo cube he stirs.
Listening for the H.E.‘s streaking for the crossroad with a bump!
While a rat from corner sneaking, is enough to make him jump.
Writing home! Under cover of the old green envelope,
Writes “The War will soon be over” [Nineteen-sixteen -what a hope!]
Even yet, when autumn tempests moan and whistle round the eaves,
And I hear again the sound of rain upon the fallen leaves.
Then I‘m back in old Givenchy, aye, just coming up from Gorre,
By the old canal, with many a pal I knew in that First World War.
There Givenchy‘s wind-swept billets lie all open to the sky,
Where we gassed about the fate of Sergeant Pickles - you and I;
Sharing optimistic rumours when there wasn‘t any news-
Davy Levy telling stories for to drive away the blues.
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