Shayari Bazar

He was just a small church parson when thewar broke out, and heLooked and dressed and acted like all parsonsthat we see.He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hookedhis vest behind.But he had a man's religion and he had a stongman's mind.And he heard the call to duty, and he quit hischurch and went.And he bravely tramped right with 'em every-where the boys were sent.He put aside his broadcloth and he put thekhaki on;Said he'd come to be a soldier and was goingto live like one.Then he'd refereed the prize fights that the boyspulled off at night,And if no one else was handy he'd put on thegloves and fight.He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the sol-diers' needs,And he said: "I'm done with preaching; thisis now the time for deeds."He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tellthe size of shellFrom the shriek it make above him, and he knewjust where it fell.In the front line trench he laboured, and he knewthe feel of mud,And he didn't run from danger and he wasn'tscared of blood.He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheeredthem with his jokes,And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes.Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt be-side a ladWho was "going west" right speedy, and theyboth seemed mighty glad,'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he smiled and whispered low,"Now you needn't fear the journey; over therewith you I'll go."And they both passed out together, arm in armI think they went.He had kept his vow to follow everywhere theboys were sent.