THE NAAFI TRAGEDY

(Apologies to Excelsior)

The shades of night were falling fast

As to the Naafi bar there passed

A sapper with more flesh than bones,

Who cried in faint and famished tones,

“Ten jam tarts”.

His heart was going pitter-pat,

He’d just been caught without a hat;

And as he staggered to his seat,

They heard his feeble voice repeat

“Ten jam tarts”.

Said dear Agnes in despair:

“You must be mad, I do declare,

I’ve been here now for many a year

And known not even Les to clear

Ten jam tarts”.

“Rats!” cried the youth. “I’ll have some ham,

Some pickles and a jar of jam.

Those banburies look quite all right,

And quick, don’t keep me here all night –

Ten jam tarts.”

“Try not the tarts,” his comrades said,

“Already you have overfed,

And no more room remains inside.”

But loud that clarion voice replied:

“Ten jam tarts.”

When all his dainties hove in sight,

He danced the tango with delight;

With tunic buttons all undone,

He then demolished one by one

Ten jam tarts.

Alas his inner man was packed,

His vital organs failed to act,

And with a wild and startled cry,

He sank, weighed down in anguish by

Ten jam tarts.

There in the Naafi, on the mat,

Writhing in agony, he sat,

And ere his eyelids closed in death,

He murmured with his latest breath:

“Ten jam tarts.”

Longmoor, September 1948