Stupid-Born Bastard

A verse penned as if written by a lad who left school aged thirteen to fight in the Great War. Contains content which may offend.

Image Credit: 
Public Domain

I survived me wounds,
Spent me time in Blighty,
Sent back to France.
I’d lost me hope of remaining.
Sent back to France – part of a new draft!
As raw as they come! Shit!
One little bastard attached ’em self ter me! Like a lice!
Four an halfpence – I’d of run a candle over ’em – get rid of the sprog!

But no matter what I said,
No matter how many times I told ’im to fook off!
He’d just grin back at me!
Keep asking what it were like.
Had I met any Germans? How many I’d killed.
Shot many – bayoneted any – ’e were driving me fooking mad!

I told ’em – the , front were cushy enough – when ’e ask me about the front!

I – I made sure I never get up close – to use me bayonet!
On and on – the sprog went on – had I ever met any Bosh? What are they like?
How I wanted to hit the little bastard – with me rifle butt!
Even when we went up the line – to the trenches – on and on ’e went.
Fooking twat – perishing little sprog!

We got into our part of the line – ’e was still asking stuff.
How far away are the Fritz?
Oh, ’bout ’undred yards – there abouts, I tell ’im!
So we can see them like?
Amazing – that! Just don’t stick your fooking head up! I told the little git.
I’ll be fine.
Before I know it the stupid fooking sprog stuck his nut up!
BANG! His brain came out of the back of his ’ead,
All over me face and into the platoons stew!
The little shit! On ’is face ’e was showing a fooking grin!

Stupid-born bastard!

The Dyslexic Wordsmith.

Join the Discussion

Please ensure all comments abide by the Thanet Writers Comments Policy

4 Comments




  • 4

    The estimated number of those under military is 250,000. Who joined up to fight for King God and Empier, and to have a great adventure. Most found only death, and misadventure. Just how many will never be known. One such livde in Saintpters, he was 14, his dad, found out, ant wrote letter affter leter, to get his son out! His son was on The somme front, took part in mny killing encounters there. Well his dad finaly acheved in haveing his son dischargde. On retuering hom, the son landed a job working an an armants fatotory in Favisham. WEll paid, armants paide very well. So well he perswaided his dad to apply for a job there. His das did, nopt long after, there ws an exploshan, many killd, the dad being one. The son, joind the Royal Navy, and suvivde WW1.
    Ken D Williams




  • 0

    From a report in The East Kent Times: Among these must be Erncat(?) Jarman , whose home is at Broadstirs. A lad, 5 feet 7 inches, age 14, full of patriotism, first tyd to joine the Royal Navy, with out success. This was Feburey 1915. So he applyde to joine the army, he was rederly accepted, he was 14, tall and big fo his age and the times then. Posted to the 5th battalean the Buffs, Thanets local regermant. His frther appyde to the War office, to have his son discharghde. That wa affter: ” He side by a long side men ”. Many such storys, but due to their age, lies told, few of their storys told.
    Ken D Williams




  • 0

    The story of so so long ago
    that many see it of being
    of no consequence
    not worth the telling
    let alone reading




    • 0

      I have read many books on WW1, and some very good documentary’s. One was on Chiles Bean, an Australian journalist. Who reported on the Australians in Gallipoli. He went on to write volumes of books on Ausralia roll duiring W1, he was antyh British, but thats anther story-poem! Anyway, when he was in Gallipoli. A digger, as were Australian soldier calld. Came up to Bean, and askde: ” You a jurnalist? ” ; ” Yes I am”. On that he shovd a pease of paper in his hand: ” I wrote this!” ; on that walkd away. bean, took a look at it, it was a poem, bealy undestanderble, sprling and us of English, made it bearly legerble. that story, stuck in my mind. now we hear much anout The war pets, BUT, what about the badly educated, who could harldly string togeather, a line of words. So in my way, MY way WW1 work, is them, talking, writeing through me.

Add a Comment