A TRENCH POET.

R. A. M. C.

A Corps there is in the Army,
It’s known as the R. A. M. C.,
And in nicknames beauteous and balmy
It’s easily top of the tree.

Poultice Wallopers! Linseed Lancers!
Rob All My Comrades! are we;
And to crown all the other fine titles,
Body snatchers! are the R. A. M. C.

But I’ve noticed this fact among others,
When shrapnel falls fulsome and free,
Our brothers in fighting battalions
Like their bodies snatched quick as can be.

So here’s health to our King and Country,
A health with a loud three times three;
A cheer for that grand British Corps, boys,
Hurrah for the R. A. M. C.