Ode to a French Regiment

DEAR Allies, whom we were relieving,When we came to the line from our rest,We came to you fondly believingYou would take us and give us your best.You gave us your wine in full measure,Your rum and your coffee was nice,And as an additional pleasureYou left us your lice.

Oh, lice full of vigour and beauty,That rove where the rich blood was spilt,Do you really believe it your dutyTo make your abode in my kilt?Do you honestly think my suspendersA fit place to take your repose,And prey on your country’s defendersInstead of her foes?

Are you really French vermin, I wonder,Or when the new trenches were wonDid they count in the tale of their plunderThe fleas and the lice of the Hun?Do no thoughts of my vengeance appal youWhen at night to the battle you rise,Are you patriots, or shall I call youMere traitors and spies?

Nay, then I shall slay you, preferringTo think you the breed of the Bosche,Who leap from your trenches preparingTo feed on the vitals of Tosh.When the iron of the tailor is singeingThe pleats of the kilt that was mine,I like to think you will die singingThe Watch on the Rhine.