My Bay'nit
When first I left Blighty they gave me a bay’nit
And told me it ‘ad to be smothered wiv gore;
But blimey! I ’aven’t been able to stain it,
So far as I’ve gone wiv the vintage of war.
For ain’t it a fraud! when a Boche and yours truly
Gits into a mix in the grit and the grime,
‘E jerks up ’is ‘ands wiv a yell and ’e’s duly
Part of me outfit every time.
Left, right, Hans and Fritz!
Goose step, keep up yer mits!
Oh my, Ain’t it a shyme!
Part of me outfit every time.
At toasting a biscuit me bay’nit’s a dandy;
I’ve used it to open a bully beef can;
For pokin’ the fire it comes in werry 'andy;
For any old thing but for stickin’ a man.
‘Ow often I’ve said: “'Ere, I’m goin’ to press you
Into a 'Un till you’re seasoned for prime,”
And fiercely I rushes to do it, but bless you!
Part of me outfit every time.
Lor, yus; DON’T they look glad?
Right O! 'Owl Kamerad!
Oh my, always the syme!
Part of me outfit every time.
I’m 'untin’ for someone to christen me bay’nit,
Some nice juicy Chewton wot’s fightin’ in France;
I’m fairly down—'earted—'ow CAN yer explain it?
I keeps gettin’ prisoners every chance.
As soon as they sees me they ups and surrenders,
Extended like monkeys wot’s tryin’ to climb;
And I uses me bay’nit—to slit their suspenders—
Part of me outfit every time.
Four ‘Uns; lor, wot a bag!
’Ere, Fritz, sample a fag!
Oh my, ain’t it a gyme!
Part of me outfit every time.
Other works by Robert W. Service...
