"To the Shirkers" written by Gunner S. Clegg RGA

[Genesis]

Again I am posting this because it was written in the notebook of Private Joseph Ross of the 1/6 Manchester regiment.
All the spellings ,punctuation and layout are as written. You will see there is one word(s) I was unable to read.


To the Shirkers

You shirkers on our island home,
What ails you we can’t tell.
If you’re hard done by what of us
Still toiling in this hell.
May be you’ve a grievance
But why not let it wait?
On …. …. You have settled it
For us ‘twill be too late
For those of military age, it stands
To their disgrace
If they’re not fully satisfied
I’ll gladly take their place.
My khaki I will give to you
Along with all my kit
And you give up your “civil” suit
I’ll chance that it will fit
You’ll only get a bob a day
Not that if you are wed;
You’ll get a lot of bully beef
Hard biscuits, little bread,
You’ll be in danger all day long
Your work is never done;
You may get killed or only hurt
It all comes in the fun.
You’ll sleep in hedges, ditches, fields,
Get wet to the skin;
You’ll think of those at home on strike,
And say “It is a sin.”
You’ll wish you had some of them here
Feel sure you’d make them rue it
You’d shove them in the firing line
And fairly put them thru it.
Some may not be eligible to come out & fight
But quite eligible to think and do you think it right?
We fight for you, so “compare” that,
Its up to you to back us,
War workers going out on strike
Are helping Fritz to whack us.
Some other means you out to find
To put right any wrong
Remember we’re fed up of this
And want to get along.
I often wonder have you thought,
I wonder what you’d do
Or what would happen to you all
If we tried shirking too?
We’ve much more cause to strike than you
For leave or say more pay,
But we just grin and bear our lot
And grouse and swear all day.
You don’t know what discomfort is
Of hardships don’t know much;
You go about on well paved streets
While we walk through the slush.
We make history, you make quids,
To beat Fritz we are trying;
So don’t get arguing for a bob
While mother’s sons are dying.
We do not want your money
Or care how much you’ve got.
But while you shirk to get some more
We don’t like getting shot
Come play the game and pull with us,
And lets see this job through,
And after we have done with Fritz
We’ll fight again with you.

Written by Gunner S. Clegg RGA to while away the time in a dugout during heavy bombardment
Ypres

[pete th]

Brilliant, thanks for sharing