A Song Of Winter Weather
Robert William Service 1874 – 1958
It isn't the foe that we fear;
It isn't the bullets that whine;
It isn't the business career
Of a shell, or the bust of a mine;
It isn't the snipers who seek
To nip our young hopes in the bud:
No, it isn't the guns,
And it isn't the Huns --
It's the MUD,
MUD,
MUD.
It isn't the melee we mind.
That often is rather good fun.
It isn't the shrapnel we find
Obtrusive when rained by the ton;
It isn't the bounce of the bombs
That gives us a positive pain:
It's the strafing we get
When the weather is wet --
It's the RAIN,
RAIN,
RAIN.
It isn't because we lack grit
We shrink from the horrors of war.
We don't mind the battle a bit;
In fact that is what we are for;
It isn't the rum-jars and things
Make us wish we were back in the fold:
It's the fingers that freeze
In the boreal breeze --
It's the COLD,
COLD,
COLD.
Oh, the rain, the mud, and the cold,
The cold, the mud, and the rain;
With weather at zero it's hard for a hero
From language that's rude to refrain.
With porridgy muck to the knees,
With sky that's a-pouring a flood,
Sure the worst of our foes
Are the pains and the woes
Of the RAIN,
THE COLD,
AND THE MUD.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 11, 2023
- 1:15 min read
- 209 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ababxcddcCC efefxghhgGG ijijxkllkKK kgxglcmmgkc |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 1,337 |
Words | 232 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 11, 11, 11, 11 |
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"A Song Of Winter Weather" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/31963/a-song-of-winter-weather>.
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