Soldier poets of the Great War (I): Eating breakfast under the flying German shells
I spent a lot of time recently reading poems from World War I, much of it new to me. Rather than discuss them all at once, I am going to feature one poem or even one line a day. Here is W.W. Gibson’s "Breakfast": We ate our breakfast lying on our backs, Because the shells ...
I spent a lot of time recently reading poems from World War I, much of it new to me. Rather than discuss them all at once, I am going to feature one poem or even one line a day.
I spent a lot of time recently reading poems from World War I, much of it new to me. Rather than discuss them all at once, I am going to feature one poem or even one line a day.
Here is W.W. Gibson’s "Breakfast":
We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,
Because the shells were screeching overhead.
I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread
That Hull United would beat Halifax
When Jimmy Stainthorp played full-back instead
Of Billy Bradford. Ginger raised his head
And cursed, and took the bet; and dropt back dead.
We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,
Because the shells were screeching overhead.
Thomas E. Ricks is a former contributing editor to Foreign Policy. Twitter: @tomricks1
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