My Job

I've got a little job on 'and, the time is drawin' nigh;      At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it;      I wants to 'ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye,      And I 'opes the God of soldier men will see me safely through it.      Because, you see, it's somethin' I 'ave never done before;      And till you 'as experience noo stunts is always tryin';      The chances is I'll never 'ave to do it any more:      At seven by the Captain's watch my little job is . . . DYIN'.      I've got a little note to write; I'd best begin it now.      I ain't much good at writin' notes, but here goes: "Dearest Mother,      I've been in many 'ot old 'do's'; I've scraped through safe some'ow,      But now I'm on the very point of tacklin' another.      A little job of hand-grenades; they called for volunteers.      They picked me out; I'm proud of it; it seems a trifle dicky.      If anythin' should 'appen, well, there ain't no call for tears,      And so . . . I 'opes this finds you well. - Your werry lovin' Micky."      I've got a little score to settle wiv them swine out there.      I've 'ad so many of me pals done in it's quite upset me.      I've seen so much of bloody death I don't seem for to care,      If I can only even up, how soon the blighters get me.      I'm sorry for them perishers that corpses in a bed;      I only 'opes mine's short and sweet, no linger-longer-lyin';      I've made a mess of life, but now I'll try to make instead . . .      It's seven sharp. Good-bye, old pals! . . . A DECENT JOB IN DYIN'.