Back to Far Far From Ypres

 

FAR, FAR FROM YPRES  SCRIPTS

Second Half

Pages 4, 5 and 6

They whistle and roar.

Take me over the sea.

Where the Alleyman

Can't get at me.

Oh my, I don't want to die,

I want to go home.

I want to go home.   

I want to go home.

I don't want to go

To the trenches no more

Where whizz bangs and shrapnel

They whistle and roar.

Take me over the sea.

Where the Alleyman

Can't get at me.

Oh my, I don't want to die,

I want to go home.      

5G     

I don't want to be a soldier

I don't want to go to war

I'd rather stay at home

Around the streets to roam.

And live on the earnings

Of a lady typist.

I don't want a bayonet in my belly

I don't want my buttocks shot away,

I'd rather stay in Scotland,

In bonnie, bonnie Scotland

And fornicate my bleedin’ life away

I don't want to be a soldier

I don't want to go to war

I'd rather stay at home

Around the streets to roam.

And live on the earnings

Of a lady typist.

I don't want a bayonet in my belly

I don't want my buttocks shot away,

I'd rather stay in Scotland,

In bonnie, bonnie Scotland

And fornicate my bleedin’ life away                                                                                                                   

Narrator

 

And far away in "bonnie, bonnie Scotland", the “lady-typists” were singing the songs of the time.

This song was introduced on the 19th of April 1916 and was sung as a duet between the original stars, George Robey and Violet Loraine. Unlike the Second World War, the population of Britain was, to a great extent, cocooned from the atrocities that were happening at the other side of the English Channel and any diversions from the news of the day was welcome.

 

The Only Girl in the World (duet, man/woman)

Sometimes when I feel bad

And things look blue

 I wish, A girl I had

Say one like you.

Someone within my heart

To build her throne,

Someone, who'd never part

To call my own.

 I'll try, a love to teach dear

Fond and true,

I sigh, a world to reach dear

Just made for me and you.

If you were the only Girl in the world

And I were the only boy.

Nothing else would matter In the world today.

We would go on loving In the same old way.

A Garden of Eden just made for two.

With nothing to mar our joy,

I would say such Wonderful things to you.

There would be such Wonderful things to do.

If you were the only Girl in the world

And I were the only boy.

Narrator

I'm sure they'll be very happy together……….Back in Ypres, the “Wipers Times” continued to amuse the soldiers but it had a more serious side. It also printed the soldier’s darker efforts, some simple, some complex, but all of them sincere. Here’s an extract from one such poem called, “To My Chum”

“No more we'll share the same old barn
The same old dug-out, same old yarn,
No more a tin of bully share
Nor split our rum by a star-shell's glare
So long old lad.

But it's only myself who has lost a friend,
And though I may fight through to the end,
No dug-out or billet will be the same,
All pals can only be pals in name,
But we'll all carry on till the end of the game
Because you lie there.”

It wasn’t only sadness that came with the death of a comrade fighting alongside you. It was a feeling of ….“why him and not me?”

The Bells of Hell 2D

The bells of Hell

Go tingalingaling                                                                                                                                                     

For you but not for me,

And the little devils               

How they singalingaling

For you but not for me.

Oh death where is thy

Stingalingaling

Oh grave thy victory?

Oh, the bells of Hell       E DD

Go tingalingaling

For you but not for me!

 

The bells of Hell

Go tingalingaling

For you but not for me,

And the little devils                          

How they singalingaling

For you but not for me.

Oh death where is thy

Stingalingaling

Oh grave thy victory?

Oh, the bells of Hell

Go tingalingaling

For you but not for me!

Raining 2D

Raining, raining, raining                                                                           

Always bloody well raining;

Raining all the morning

Raining all the day.

Grousing, grousing, grousing,

Always bloody well grousing,

Grousing at the weather.

Grousing at the pay.

ALL

Raining, raining, raining

Always bloody well raining;

Raining all the morning

Raining all the day.

Grousing, grousing, grousing,

Always bloody well grousing,

Grousing at the weather.

Grousing at the pay.

 

Narrator

Tonight, we have heard songs of boredom, songs of anguish, songs of pain, anger and frustration.  Although the songs come from many sources, the texts written by the soldiers themselves shine through with an honesty that cannot be questioned.  This is a love song from British officer Frederick E. Weatherley, and it tells of his love for a French widow, who sheltered and cared for him in war-torn France. The complex tune was written by Haydn Wood and it remains one of the most poignant songs of the Great War.

 

 

Roses of Picardy            

She is watching by the poplars,
Colinette with the sea-blue eyes,
She is watching and longing, and waiting
Where the long white roadway lies,
And a song stirs in the silence,
As the wind in the boughs above,
She listens and starts and trembles,
'Tis the first little song of love.

Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,