Pain

Dartmoor in a rainy morning light On the shoulders a well full pack Regulation fifty six pounds hanging On an already near breaking back Marching on a compass bearing No deviation allowed Hour after hour Under low hanging cloud Forcing boot after boot Water already seeping in Wanting to kill the Doc For his banter and his grin I’ve been driving a desk For more than three years Wanting to kill the Rupert That went and sent me here Just a grinding march In a murky moor haze Mile after mile suffering In an exhausted daze The Doc’s cheerful voice Dragging us along But oh lord I’ll kill him If he sings again that song There’s Don stoutly walking Showing his stiff upper lip While Reg curses madly As he takes a near trip And I’m staggering on Just by the power of will Compiling my growing list Of folks I intend to kill Dartmoor in October rain There’s an approaching end And I suppose really The Doc’s not a bad friend The three day’s route march That I thought I’d never make Is finally finished and I’m grinning through my aches I had a dose of tonsillitis The M.O. a sadistic swine Proved beyond doubt He was no friends of mine His successful cure Caused me so much pain He sent me off to Dartmoor In the pouring October rain