Rumour- written by my dad In Jap POW camp 1944

This tale I tell is most certainly true, The tale of a rumour and what it came to, The rumour got through to the nips at the wire, That the lads were brewing with an electrical fire, And by far the most cruel and underhand blow, Someone had told of our radio. The facts of the rumour were decidedly true, But how they leaked out we wish we all knew, The gadgets for cooking and comfort were made, By ingenious fellahs of the electrical trade, The result of their labour was rudely undone, As we sat all day in the heat of the sun. While the nips went out having wonderful sport, Fishing out gadgets of most every sort, The pile at the gate was piling up still, The thought of our loss made us quite ill, No sign of a radio had come into sight, We were likely to be there all ruddy night, Our stomachs were empty but what did they care, We’d had not a bite since we came on the square. Ah! Whats that? There’s a bit of a scurry, Up came a Nip in a bit of a hurry, Alas! They had found it they bought out the goods, The interpreter spoke to old Chippie Woods, There was speculation as they took him away, But what we would get no one could say. Back in our billets there was a terrible row, Though we were hungry we did not eat chow, For eating from mess tins on that fateful day, Made rice and beans taste something like hay, As old Chippy had made his radio in, The smaller part of a service mess tin, Now you see what rumour can do in a camp, When it comes to the ears of an informing tramp. David Henry Davidson 19441944, Written April 21st, 2002 © on Apr 20 2002 11:17 PM PST    0 • 18 • 1