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 @3mud, mud, mud.@1 It isn't the @3melee@1 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 @3rain, rain, rain.@1 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 @3cold, cold, cold.@1 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 @3rain@1, the @3cold@1, and the @3mud@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THROSTLE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WATER CROWVOOT by WILLIAM BARNES PSALM 8; AUGUST 14, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SONNET ON MOOR PARK - WRITTEN AT LEE PRIORY, AUGUST 10, 1826 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES IN THE ROMAN FORUM by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |