Poetry from WW1 which was not published..see it and find out why

My little dry home in the wet

I’ve a little wet home in a trench

And the rainstorms continually drench

There’s the sky overhead, clay or mud for a bed

And stone we use as a bench

Bully beef and hard biscuits we chew

It seems years since we tasted a stew

Shells crackle and scare, yet no place can compare

With my little wet home in the trench