An Ode In Remembrance Of Mersa Matruh:
December 1935 - April 1936 

 

This poem was written in Mersa Matruh, Egypt. The original was written on orderly paper. It was written to take the rise out of the Colonel Blimps. They were always talking about when they were in Poonah in India. They also reckoned you were not a soldier until you had served on the northwest frontier amongst the Afridis' who would cut you up. Well we had our bad times in the Middle East of that I can show you plenty of proof.

A. J "Jess" Matthews
Royal Tank Corps 

 

Just think of an expense of nothing at all,
Not even a brook, nor even a wall,
Just mile upon mile of shimmering sand
With naught to disturb us "ain't it grand."

Now picture a sea of deep sapphire blue,
Softly caressing the shores of Matruh,
A dreamy lagoon, a swimmer's delight,
Romance in the heavens, a moonlight night.

The songs of the desert one swiftly recalls
With each lonely hour as night time falls,
The rolling surf on a night so still,
But oh! What a blind to the boys in drill.

We came out here at our country's call,
Maybe to stand with our backs to a wall
To repulse Mussolini if he should get funny
And covet this land of milk and honey

They gave us a gas mask, a rifle as well
And this is the joke of the tale I tell,
I really believe that they gave us these
To keep out the sand, and wage war on the fleas.

The flea we deal with isn't too great
So when he bites you, and you look too late,
You know he was there by a little red lump,
But just try to catch him: It'll give you the hump.

With finger and thumb you approach the sore spot,
And nip like the devil on a spot where he's not,
It's useless to search, cos they move by small hops,
And where he was then by now he's not.

And talking of sheets please just remember
They have'nt been washed since early September,
Of course, now it's June but we'll get 'em washed soon
That's what the man said who looks down from the moon.

Now, for reason of rhyme, delete "sheets" read blankets,
For those who have both have reason to thank it,
Because at Matruh - for some unknown reason
Blankets and sheets are not in season.

The fact that half our life's spent in bed,
Will no doubt describe the life we led.
For it is'nt a joke when your blanket and vest
Are lousy with fleas that cannot rest.

They hop from toes to the back of your heel,
And on tender portions enjoy a good meal,
I know it is dirty, but really a good trick
Just don't wash your feet, it makes the fleas sick.

They hop round your tummy, on to your thigh,
From the bridge of your nose, into your eye,
You fight with your hands and fight with your feet
Till in final surrender you drop off to sleep.

But that is'nt all we have to endure,
There's nothing but sand from horizon to shore,
It isn't the sand, with which we make pies
But the kind so light it easily flies.

A whisper of wind from any direction
Puts finish to even a C O's inspection
The desert, so peaceful just stiffens it's back
And throws in our face the sand that is slack.

It whirls around and around in it's glee,
And ruins breakfast, dinner and tea.
It gets in your mouth, ears, nose and eyes
And finally leaves you a prey to the flies.

The flies I think they beat the bunch,
They won't desist until they crunch
With a loop or slow roll right into your eye,
They keep you awake though you want to die. 

Still, don't let us worry, cos life ain't that bad,
And when you get home, think of the times you had.
You'll be able to sit in the old saloon bar
And hear all the toff's say "By God sie nevah!"

Yes, those were the days sir, back there at Matruh,
Way over in Egypt, right out in the blue,
With a bomb for a pillow, a gun in my hand
And every damned thing sir was covered in sand. 

 

Perhaps you have an article to add to the site concerning our family's history? Contact me at the email address for consideration. nrbcpastorkev@yahoo.com.au

---

 

11/04/2007

Top of this Page
Composition Directory
Kevin Matthews History Site

A KEVIN MATTHEWS
PRODUCTION