Was It You?

"Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay      And your pen behind your ear;      Will you mark my cheque in the usual way?      For I'm overdrawn, I fear."      Then you look at me in a manner bland,      As you turn your ledger's leaves,      And you hand it back with a soft white hand,      And the air of a man who grieves. . . .      "Was it you, young Jones, was it you I saw      (And I think I see you yet)      With a live bomb gripped in your grimy paw      And your face to the parapet?      With your lips asnarl and your eyes gone mad      With a fury that thrilled you through. . . .      Oh, I look at you now and I think, my lad,      Was it you, young Jones, was it you?      "Hullo, young Smith, with your well-fed look      And your coat of dapper fit,      Will you recommend me a decent book      With nothing of War in it?"      Then you smile as you polish a finger-nail,      And your eyes serenely roam,      And you suavely hand me a thrilling tale      By a man who stayed at home.      "Was it you, young Smith, was it you I saw      In the battle's storm and stench,      With a roar of rage and a wound red-raw      Leap into the reeking trench?      As you stood like a fiend on the firing-shelf      And you stabbed and hacked and slew. . . .      Oh, I look at you and I ask myself,      Was it you, young Smith, was it you?      "Hullo, old Brown, with your ruddy cheek      And your tummy's rounded swell,      Your garden's looking jolly chic      And your kiddies awf'ly well.      Then you beam at me in your cheery way      As you swing your water-can;      And you mop your brow and you blithely say:      'What about golf, old man?'      "Was it you, old Brown, was it you I saw      Like a bull-dog stick to your gun,      A cursing devil of fang and claw      When the rest were on the run?      Your eyes aflame with the battle-hate. . . .      As you sit in the family pew,      And I see you rising to pass the plate,      I ask: Old Brown, was it you?      "Was it me and you? Was it you and me?      (Is that grammar, or is it not?)      Who groveled in filth and misery,      Who gloried and groused and fought?      Which is the wrong and which is the right?      Which is the false and the true?      The man of peace or the man of fight?      Which is the ME and the YOU?"