world to see,
But not afore indelible he's put his mark on
me.

I got the signs Masonic all inlaid along me
lug
Where Molly, P.C., swiped me in them
'appy, careless days.
He's sargin' now, a vet'ran; I'm a newchum
and a mug,
'N' when he sorter fixes me there's some-
thin' in his gaze
That's pensive like. "Move on!" sez he.
"Keep movin' there!" he says.

If after this I dreams of scraps promiscuous
and crool,
The mills in Butcher's Alley when the
watch is on the wine,
Those nights he raided Wylie's shed to break
the two-up school,
I takes a screw at Molly. With a grin that
ain't divine
He's toyin' with a scar of old I reckernise
as mine.

'N' so I'm layin' for it, 'n' I'm wonderin' how
'n' what.
We're signed on with the Germans, 'n' there
ain't a vacant date;