My Dearest Mary

My dearest Mary, always know,

That as in deadly mud I fought,

It was not of King and Country,

But of you and John I thought.

 

Though my leg is blown to pieces,

What causes me most pain,

Is to know I will never smell your hair,

Or touch your face again.

 

And little John, it will be,

But cold comfort, I know,

To tell the other, fathered, boys,

Your Daddy was a hero.

 

When other fathers take their boys,

To fishing or football game,

Your Mummy will bring you to this Belgian town,

To read your father’s name.

 

Soon, hot Death will claim me,

And this sheet become a shroud,

A final kiss I send to you and mum,

I hope I made you proud.

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