“This Land”

By P.F.C. Ralph M. Brauser

As I sit upon a hill
And watch the river in the cove.
It brings back memories of the past.
And hoping they are not the last.
This is Africa stark and weary,
And days here seem so long and dreary.

To the left of me is Bizerta
And to my right lies Farryville.
These are places of noted fame,
And the way they’re wrecked,
’Tis but a shame.

This is not the best of lands,
But better than Sahara sands.
The lovely palm tree on the plain
And never the whistle of a train.
Arabs with their mules so slow,
Carrying fruit and grain they grow.
Why must we fight in lands like these?
When people are so hard to please.

Its comrades give me smoke and gum.
And eggs to sell, would you like some?
The Frenchmen with their wine so free.
Shares his drinks with you and me.
The mighty warship on the coast,
Protects our shore without a boast.
We are the men who fight for you.
With heart and soul to see it through.
With God’s help and all his might
We’ll be victorious in this fight.

Now wait for my return my sweet,
While I suffer in the heat.
Trust and be trusted, my girl to be,
Because there’s no other one for me.