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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