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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508588" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Priscilla</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jerry MacMullen, the millionaire,<br>Driving a red-meat bus out there --<br>How did he win his Croix de Guerre?<br>Bless you, that's all old stuff:<br>Beast of a night on the Verdun road,<br>Jerry stuck with a woeful load,<br>Stalled in the mud where the red lights glowed,<br>Prospect devilish tough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Little Priscilla&quot; he called his car,<br>Best of our battered bunch by far,<br>Branded with many a bullet scar,<br>Yet running so sweet and true.<br>Jerry he loved her, knew her tricks;<br>Swore: &quot;She's the beat of the best big six,<br>And if ever I get in a deuce of a fix<br>Priscilla will pull me through.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Looks pretty rotten right now,&quot; says he;<br>&quot;Hanged if the devil himself could see.<br>Priscilla, it's up to you and me<br>To show 'em what we can do.&quot;<br>Seemed that Priscilla just took the word;<br>Up with a leap like a horse that's spurred,<br>On with the joy of a homing bird,<br>Swift as the wind she flew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shell-holes shoot at them out of the night;<br>A lurch to the left, a wrench to the right,<br>Hands grim-gripping and teeth clenched tight,<br>Eyes that glare through the dark.<br>&quot;Priscilla, you're doing me proud this day;<br>Hospital's only a league away,<br>And, honey, I'm longing to hit the hay,<br>So hurry, old girl. . . . But hark!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Howl of a shell, harsh, sudden, dread;<br>Another . . . another. . . . &quot;Strike me dead<br>If the Huns ain't strafing the road ahead<br>So the convoy can't get through!<br>A barrage of shrap, and us alone;<br>Four rush-cases -- you hear 'em moan?<br>Fierce old messes of blood and bone. . . .<br>Priscilla, what shall we do?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again it seems that Priscilla hears.<br>With a rush and a roar her way she clears,<br>Straight at the hell of flame she steers,<br>Full at its heart of wrath.<br>Fury of death and dust and din!<br>Havoc and horror! She's in, she's in;<br>She's almost over, she'll win, she'll win!<br>Woof! Crump! right in the path.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Little Priscilla skids and stops,<br>Jerry MacMullen sways and flops;<br>Bang in his map the crash he cops;<br>Shriek from the car: &quot;Mon Dieu!&quot;<br>One of the bless&eacute;s hears him say,<br>Just at the moment he faints away:<br>&quot;Reckon this isn't my lucky day,<br>Priscilla, it's up to you.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sergeant raps on the doctor's door;<br>&quot;Car in the court with couch&eacute;s four;<br>Driver dead on the dashboard floor;<br>Strange how the bunch got here.&quot;<br>&quot;No,&quot; says the Doc, &quot;this chap's alive;<br>But tell me, how could a man contrive<br>With both arms broken, a car to drive?<br>Thunder of God! it's queer.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Same little bless&eacute; makes a spiel;<br>Says he: &quot;When I saw our driver reel,<br>A Strange Shape leapt to the driving wheel<br>And sped us safe through the night.&quot;<br>But Jerry, he says in his drawling tone:<br>&quot;Rats! Why, Priscilla came in on her own.<br>Bless her, she did it alone, alone. . . .&quot;<br>Hanged if I know who's right.</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=508588" data-title="Priscilla de Robert William Service" data-description="Jerry MacMullen, the millionaire,
Driving a red-meat bus out there --
How did he win his Croix de Guerre?
Bless you, that's all old stuff:
Beast of a night on the Verdun road,
Jerry stuck with a woeful load,
Stalled in the mud where the red lights..."></div>
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