And have we done with War at last?
And there's no need of pledge or oath
Well, we've been lucky devils both,
To bind our lovely friendship fast,
By firmer stuff
Close bound enough.
By wire and wood and stake we're bound,
By whipping rain, by the sun's glare,
By Fricourt and by Festubert,
By a Spring day,
By all the misery and loud sound,
By Picard clay.
Show me the two so closely bound
As we, by the red bond of blood,
By friendship, blossoming from mud,
By Death: we faced him, and we found
Beauty in Death,
In dead men breath.