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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508948" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Was It You?</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay<br>And your pen behind your ear;<br>Will you mark my cheque in the usual way?<br>For I'm overdrawn, I fear.&quot;<br>Then you look at me in a manner bland,<br>As you turn your ledger's leaves,<br>And you hand it back with a soft white hand,<br>And the air of a man who grieves. . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Was it you, young Jones, was it you I saw<br>(And I think I see you yet)<br>With a live bomb gripped in your grimy paw<br>And your face to the parapet?<br>With your lips asnarl and your eyes gone mad<br>With a fury that thrilled you through. . . .<br>Oh, I look at you now and I think, my lad,<br>Was it you, young Jones, was it you?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Hullo, young Smith, with your well-fed look<br>And your coat of dapper fit,<br>Will you recommend me a decent book<br>With nothing of War in it?&quot;<br>Then you smile as you polish a finger-nail,<br>And your eyes serenely roam,<br>And you suavely hand me a thrilling tale<br>By a man who stayed at home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Was it you, young Smith, was it you I saw<br>In the battle's storm and stench,<br>With a roar of rage and a wound red-raw<br>Leap into the reeking trench?<br>As you stood like a fiend on the firing-shelf<br>And you stabbed and hacked and slew. . . .<br>Oh, I look at you and I ask myself,<br>Was it you, young Smith, was it you?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Hullo, old Brown, with your ruddy cheek<br>And your tummy's rounded swell,<br>Your garden's looking jolly chic<br>And your kiddies awf'ly well.<br>Then you beam at me in your cheery way<br>As you swing your water-can;<br>And you mop your brow and you blithely say:<br>`What about golf, old man?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Was it you, old Brown, was it you I saw<br>Like a bull-dog stick to your gun,<br>A cursing devil of fang and claw<br>When the rest were on the run?<br>Your eyes aflame with the battle-hate. . . .<br>As you sit in the family pew,<br>And I see you rising to pass the plate,<br>I ask: Old Brown, was it you?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Was it me and you? Was it you and me?<br>(Is that grammar, or is it not?)<br>Who groveled in filth and misery,<br>Who gloried and groused and fought?<br>Which is the wrong and which is the right?<br>Which is the false and the true?<br>The man of peace or the man of fight?<br>Which is the ME and the YOU?&quot;</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=508948" data-title="Was It You? de Robert William Service" data-description="&quot;Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay
And your pen behind your ear;
Will you mark my cheque in the usual way?
For I'm overdrawn, I fear.&quot;
Then you look at me in a manner bland,
As you turn your ledger's leaves,
And you hand it back w..."></div>
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