The K A Boys
Dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud
Kitchener's Army on the march
Through Marylebone and Marble Arch,
Men in motley, so to speak,
Been in training about a week,
Swinging easy, toe and heel,
Game and gay, and keen as steel.
Dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud
Norfolk jackets, city suits,
Some in shoes and some in boots;
Clerk and sportsman, tough and nut,
Reach-me-downs and Bond-Street cut;
Typical kit of every kind,
To show the life they've left behind.
Dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud dr-rud
Marching by at an easy pace,
The great adventure in every face.
Raw if you like, but full of grit,
Snatching the chance to do their bit.
Oh, I want to cheer and I want to cry
When Kitchener's Boys go marching by.
Lights Out
Darkness expectant, discreet
Only a lamp here and there,
Gloom in the clattering street,
Stygian black in the square;
Dazzling fascias and fronts,
Scintillant sky-scrapers banished,
Snuffed and shut down are the spangles of Town.
London has vanished.
Only a few months ago
London woke up every night;
Dances or 'Chemin' or Show,
Festival vistas of light.
Everywhere glitter and glare,
Junket and revelry keeping.
Yes, but despite the laughter and light,
London was sleeping.
Searchlights are probing the skies,
Eastward their streamers are trailed ;
Masked are the city's bright eyes
Even the tramcars are veiled.
Cockneys turn in at eleven,
'Stop Press' thirst finally slaked.
Turn the lights out. Now, without doubt,
London's awake!
