My mess tin doth reflect a wearied face
Whilst catching glimpse (as each shared ‘Bully Beef’)
With ‘tatties’ and some veg’ all troops said Grace
Ere straining to Maconochie’s ‘relief’
Tis now some months or more, since we ‘dug in’
Midst shelling and bombardment o’er the line
Existence self contained as lived herein
Each ‘Tommy’ standing watch as others dine
Lest Men and held supplies are “cut to bone”
Fresh lots are drawn to raid the nearest Farm
If rations should deplete “we’re on our own”
Both eggs and chicken wings may help ‘re-arm’
Tho appetite is lost at each “short straw”
One’s palliasse fills out o’er time for sure