WeRead Powered by ReaderPub
A Gloucestershire Lad at Home and Abroad cover

A Gloucestershire Lad at Home and Abroad

Chapter 18: BALLADE OF DAMNABLE THINGS
Open in WeRead

Explore more books like this:

About This Book

This collection gathers poems composed by a soldier at the Front that alternate between affectionate dialect songs celebrating Gloucestershire landscapes, traditions and pastimes and sober battlefield reflections on comradeship, sacrifice, and homesickness. Short formal pieces—ballades, trios, sonnets—and prose poems shift between light conviviality and stark moral questioning, often anchoring wartime anxiety in images of orchards, rivers and village life. Recurring themes include longing for home, the weight of witnessing death, gratitude, defiance, and the effort to reconcile pastoral memory with the experience of combat, producing verses that balance local humor and song with solemn meditation.

BALLADE OF DAMNABLE THINGS

I do not like a horse to throw me off.
I do not like the motor-bike to skid.
I do not like a nasty hacking cough,
Nor influenza. And I never did
Enjoy the thought of frizzling on a grid,
The while wee flaming devils dance and sing.
But short of simple Hell without the lid,
I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing.
Fleas, faintness, famine, stomach-ache, the feel
Of flies upon your face, rats in your bed;
Lice, dusty roads, a blister on your heel,
The taste of salts, the scent of things long dead,
Home-sickness, chilblains, grief uncomforted,
A hollow tooth with cold, a hornet sting:—
These are unpleasant, yet when all is said
I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing.
See you the whole bright world before your eye
Dwindle as ugly as a wrinkled pea.
See Beauty, a pricked bubble: Truth, a lie:
Achievement, foam on muddy water. See
Yourself a yellow devil suddenly,
And all the zest of youth gone journeying—
See you all this, and then you will agree
(I think) that jaundice is the damn’dest thing.
Envoi.
Prince of the damned—I ransack my supplies
To find a fitting wish at you to fling.
Now may you look on Hell through yellow eyes.
I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing.