When you're lying in your hammock, sleeping soft and sleeping sound, <br />Without a care or trouble on your mind, <br />And there's nothing to disturb you but the engines going round, <br />And you're dreaming of the girl you left behind; <br />In the middle of your joys you'll be wakened by a noise <br />And a clatter on the deck above your crown, <br />And you'll head the corporal shout as he turns the picket out, <br />"There's another blessed horse fell down." <br />You can see 'em in the morning, when you're cleaning out the stall, <br />A-leaning on the railings nearly dead, <br />And you reckon by the evening they'll be pretty sure to fall; <br />And you curse them as you tumble into bed. <br />Oh, you'll hear it pretty soon, "Pass the word for Denny Moon, <br />There's a horse here throwing handsprings like a clown;" <br />And it's shove the others back, or he'll cripple half the pack; <br />"There's another blessed horse fell down." <br /> <br />And when the war is over and the fighting is all done, <br />And you're all at home with medals on your chest, <br />And you've learnt to sleep so soundly that the firing of a gun <br />At your bedside wouldn't rob you of your rest; <br />As you lay in slumber deep, if your wife walks in her sleep, <br />And tumbles down the stairs and breaks her crown, <br />Oh, it won't awaken you, for you'll say, "It's nothing new, <br />It's another blessed horse fell down."<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-s-another-blessed-horse-fell-down/
