by Nelson Jackson (1920) At Victoria Station a soldier I met, The night it was dark and night it was wet. His wrist had a sort of a twist and a jerk, Which seemed as if uncontrolled nerves were at work. I said, "Dear old bean, could you do with a drink?" And he answered me kindly, "Well, what do you think?" "Two beers" was the order, and "Cheero," said I, "Cheero" he answered, and drained his glass dry. "Could you do with another?" "Why, search me," said he And his wrist still was twitching, ''twas painful to see. "Cheero," again said he, "Cheero," said I, And he set down his glass, and again it was dry. "Couldn't manage another I s'pose?" I beguiled And "It's only a rumour!" he said, and he smiled. We filled up again and got on with the work With his wrist all the time on the twitch and the jerk. "Now tell me," I said, "Just before I depart, What's the matter, old son, is it shell-shock, or heart?" And the poor fellow answered, his language was free "My gal has presented a wrist watch to me; And if I don't jerk it and twitch it, just so, I'll be blanked if I can get the dam' thing to go."
The end