Who, when reveilles hateful blare
Unknits my “ravelled sleeve of care,”
Growls at me like a wounded bear?
The Sergeant !
And when at “Full knees bend” I strain,
And “Upward stretch,” who mocks my pain
And makes me do the thing again?
The Sergeant !
Who bays behind my shrinking shanks
And bellows at me from the flanks
When I am talking in the ranks?
The Sergeant !
Who as I flog my lonely beat
Beseeches me to “lift those feet”
And calls me names I can’t repeat?
The Sergeant !
Who sees that all my buttons shine,
That I preserve a rigid spine
And go to bed at half-past nine?
The Sergeant !
Who watches while I clean the swill,
Parades me when I need a pill
And takes my name for extra drill?
The Sergeant !
And when the pearly gates I spy
And try to pass the sentry by,
Who’ll shout, “Quick march ! Lef’ ri’, lef’ ri'”?
The Sergeant !
(Cyril Bretherton)