Whistlers Last Day

He whistled away For most of the day We sat in the mud, bored half to death. Smoking and joking, Coughing and choking, We'd get over this bloody war yet. Then in dark As if for a lark Fritz sent up a display, I say a beautiful bloody display. Whizz went the bang As the hot metal sang A withering ballad of death. He'd not whistle again Most annoying of men He lay in the mud, no more to be said except, he is dead. Jagged metal through his head Quite dead I said, quite dead He's taken his very last breath.