Bill, he kept racin' the motor, <br />For fear that the damned thing would die. <br />While I fiddled 'round with the breech block <br />And wished for a piece of your pie. <br /> <br />It's funny the way it affects you, <br />When you're waitin' for the signal to go. <br />There's none of the high moral feeling <br />About which the newspapers blow. <br /> <br />For myself, I always is hungry, <br />While Bill thought his spark plugs was foul. <br />Some guys talks o' sprees they has been on, <br />And one kid, what's croaked, thought of school. <br /> <br />At last, I seen Number One signal; <br />I beat on the back o' Bill's neck. <br />He slipped her the juice and she started, <br />And Bill he ain't never come back. <br /> <br />The first news we had of the Boches <br />Was shot splinters, right in the eye. <br />I cussed twice as loud as the Colonel, <br />And forgot all about the old pie. <br /> <br />A Boche he runs out with a tank gun; <br />I gave him H.E. in the guts. <br />You ought to have seen him pop open! <br />They sure was well fed, was them sluts. <br /> <br />We wiped out two nests with case shot <br />And was just gettin' into a third, <br />When we plunked in a hole full of water. <br />That God-damned Bill sure was a bird. <br /> <br />He hollers, 'Frank, you're married; <br />If only one gets out, it's you.' <br />And he rammed me up out of the turret... <br />I guess that's about all I knew. <br /> <br />A stinkin' whizz-bang beaned me, <br />Or I might of rescued Bill, <br />But it's too late now. He's sleepin' <br />By our tank, on that God-damned hill. <br /> <br />They gave him a Medal of Honor, <br />For savin' me for you, <br />So if it's a boy we'll name it Bill, <br />It's the least and the most we can do.<br /><br />General George S Patton Jnr<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bill-8/
