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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Nadine from the People’s War team on behalf of Mrs H Taylor and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

This poem was given to Mrs H Taylor, by another WREN. (NAME NOT SUPPLIED)

ON LEAVING CABBALA (H.M.S.)

Soon, we shall no longer be in this Nautical Academy,
No more “Coders” dashing by,
Long of tooth and cross of eye,
No more smells, while reading morse,
No more meat, that tastes like horse,

No more rushing to empty bins,
No more blushing at Sailors grins,
No more queuing for baths at night,
No more gumption to get them white,

No more spinning the yarn with Chief,
No more chalk throwing, oh what a relief!
No more hoisting the ensign high!
Under the Captains eagle eye!

No more tearing for liberty boats,
Hair nets keeping hair off coats,
How we’ll miss the scrum in slops,
Still, it’s cheaper than the shops,

No more fighting in the canteen,
Emerging like a tinned sardine!
No more standing in the gale,
Streaming eyes and faces pale,
Fingers numbed and feet like stone,
A V/S’s life is one long moan,

With eyes still full of sleep,
To laundry do we slowly creep,
To eat our lunch we rush intent,
‘But wait’ says Chief, the whistle ain’t went,

Friend Draycott we shall miss no doubt,
It makes yer think, when he’s about,
Roll on, roll on, the time rolls on,
Yet still they don’t appear.
Our course is over we’ll soon by gone,
To worser dumps I fear.
Happy Days?

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