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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508222" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bill's Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm gatherin' flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill;<br> I've sneaked away from the billet, 'cause Jim wouldn't understand;<br>'E'd call me a silly fat'ead, and larf till it made 'im ill,<br> To see me 'ere in the cornfield, wiv a big bookay in me 'and.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Jim and me we are rough uns, but Bill was one o' the best;<br> We 'listed and learned together to larf at the wust wot comes;<br>Then Bill copped a packet proper, and took 'is departure West,<br> So sudden 'e 'adn't a minit to say good-bye to 'is chums.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they took me to where 'e was planted, a sort of a measly mound,<br> And, thinks I, 'ow Bill would be tickled, bein' so soft and queer,<br>If I gathered a bunch o' them wild-flowers, and sort of arranged them round<br> Like a kind of a bloody headpiece . . . and that's the reason I'm 'ere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But not for the love of glory I wouldn't 'ave Jim to know.<br> 'E'd call me a slobberin' Cissy, and larf till 'is sides was sore;<br>I'd 'ave larfed at meself too, it isn't so long ago;<br> But some'ow it changes a feller, 'avin' a taste o' war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It 'elps a man to be 'elpful, to know wot 'is pals is worth<br> (Them golden poppies is blazin' like lamps some fairy 'as lit);<br>I'm fond o' them big white dysies. . . . Now Jim's o' the salt o' the earth;<br> But 'e 'as got a tongue wot's a terror, and 'e ain't sentimental a bit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I likes them blue chaps wot's 'idin' so shylike among the corn.<br> Won't Bill be glad! We was allus thicker 'n thieves, us three.<br>Why! 'Oo's that singin' so 'earty? JIM! And as sure as I'm born<br> 'E's there in the giddy cornfields, a-gatherin' flowers like me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quick! Drop me posy be'ind me. I watches 'im for a while,<br> Then I says: &quot;Wot 'o, there, Chummy! Wot price the little bookay?&quot;<br>And 'e starts like a bloke wot's guilty, and 'e says with a sheepish smile:<br> &quot;She's a bit of orl right, the widder wot keeps the estaminay.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So 'e goes away in a 'urry, and I wishes 'im best o' luck,<br> And I picks up me bunch o' wild-flowers, and the light's gettin' sorto dim,<br>When I makes me way to the boneyard, and . . . I stares like a man wot's stuck,<br> For wot do I see? Bill's grave-mound strewn with the flowers of Jim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of course I won't never tell 'im, bein' a tactical lad;<br> And Jim parley-voos to the widder: &quot;Trez beans, lamoor; compree?&quot;<br>Oh, 'e'd die of shame if 'e knew I knew; but say! won't Bill be glad<br> When 'e stares through the bleedin' clods and sees the blossoms of Jim and me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508222" data-title="Bill's Grave de Robert William Service" data-description="I'm gatherin' flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill;
 I've sneaked away from the billet, 'cause Jim wouldn't understand;
'E'd call me a silly fat'ead, and larf till it made 'im ill,
 To see me 'ere in the cornfield, wiv a big bookay i..."></div>
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