The boys have had a break,
Marvellous weather, glorious sunshine,
We've got orders, commands, letters
From home, letters from friends, pens
Have written odes to our memory.

We have been forsaken for so long
That the enemy now seems like
A friend in the dark, a companion in the mornings,
The artillery shells are like the staccato rings
Of the Alarm clock that I left on the shelf.

Duty is, but a byword now,
When the flags of our fathers weigh too much,
Our backs are burdened by the dead companions
We intend to bring back home.