Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Thank you!

That V.C

by
 'Twas in the days of front attack; 
This glorious truth we'd yet to learn it -- 
That every "front" has got a back.
And French was just the man to turn it.
A wounded soldier on the ground Was lying hid behind a hummock; He proved the good old proverb sound -- An army travels on its stomach.
He lay as flat as any fish; His nose had worn a little furrow; He only had one frantic wish, That like an ant-bear he could burrow.
The bullets whistled into space, The pom-pom gun kept up its braying, The fout-point-seven supplied the bass -- You'd think the devil's band was playing.
A valiant comrade crawling near Observed his most supine behaviour, And crept towards him; "Hey! what cheer? Buck up," said he, "I've come to save yer.
"You get up on my shoulders, mate, And, if we live beyond the firing, I'll get the V.
C.
sure as fate, Because our blokes is all retiring.
"It's fifty pound a year," says he, "I'll stand you lots of beer and whisky.
" "No," says the wounded man, "not me, I'll not be saved -- it's far too risky.
"I'm fairly safe behind this mound, I've worn a hole that seems to fit me; But if you lift me off the ground It's fifty pounds to one they'll hit me.
" So back towards the firing-line Our friend crept slowly to the rear-oh! Remarking "What a selfish swine! He might have let me be a hero.
"

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - That V.CEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Andrew Barton Paterson Poems

Analysis and Comments on That V.C

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem That V.C here.