He used to get, when in civilian state, <br />His tea and shaving water, sharp, at eight. <br />Then ten delicious minutes would be spent <br />In one last snooze of exquisite content. <br /> <br />That cosy nest, luxuriously sprung, <br />Was like a cloud 'twixt earth and heaven hung, <br />The eiderdown and blankets, soft and warm, <br />Were yet as light as spindrift in a storm. <br /> <br />Unparalleled contingencies since then <br />Have found a soldier in the citizen. <br />In inky tent he thrusts and coils each limb <br />To make his one ewe blanket cover him. <br /> <br />The Spartan methods of a scanty kit <br />May make the budding soldier hard and fit, <br />Yet, while he sleeps, a chilliness of spine <br />Breeds harassed dreams of ''shun! 'and' Right <br />incline!' <br /> <br />Grumble not he it's all a bit of fun. <br />'One blanket's better,' as he says, 'than none' <br />The same for him as other Tommies, but <br />No disrespect in future for the Nut! <br /> <br /> <br />[The 'Nut' referred to is Jessie Pope's son Gilbert]<br /><br />Jessie Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-nut-2/
