Gethsemane

 1914-18

The Garden called Gethsemane
 In Picardy it was,
And there the people came to see
 The English soldiers pass.
We used to pass -- we used to pass
Or halt, as it might be,
And ship our masks in case of gas
 Beyond Gethsemane.

The Garden called Gethsemane,
 It held a pretty lass,
But all the time she talked to me
 I prayed my cup might pass.
The officer sat on the chair,
 The men lay on the grass,
And all the time we halted there
 I prayed my cup might pass.

It didn't pass -- it didn't pass --
 It didn't pass from me.
I drank it when we met the gas
 Beyond Gethsemane.

Form: Ballad Comments

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