The timing is somewhat out, take it for what it is.
I was a youth, not sixteen years
who thought the world to see.
And so overcoming all my fears
I signed up for nine and three.*
A foolish move some did speak
to accept the old kings shilling,
to take in payment five a week
but I was more than willing.
Enlisting in the military band
of the North Stafford's Regiment.
With clarinet in my unsure hand
sucked and blew to resentment.
For nine months I tried in vain,
to produce an acceptable noise.
And youthful dreams began to wane,
when to Egypt I went with the boys.
"Otranto" was the ship we sailed on,
a converted liner I had been told.
And with kit bag weighing half a ton
with others I was herded to the hold.
Nights of sleeping in a hammock
swaying to the movement of the ship.
Gun fodder ready for the breechblock,
most staggered to the deck to be sick.
Fed up with trying sleep down below,
each evening would find me on deck
using life jackets as bed and a pillow
and on awaking had no twisted neck.
But a change of country and of clime
did not improve me as a player.
A transfer was made; not before time,
and I found myself in Malaya.
A musician I knew I would not make,
volunteered a self-imposed dismissal.
I served my time, and then sent home
an expert on how well I could whistle.
*Nine years with the regiment
Three years in army reserve
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