By Cpl. K. Stewart. 2/1st Pioneer Battalion
They calls 'em slit-trenches and dug-outs,
Sorta gives 'em a snug cosy sound,
But when you look at the business more closely,
They're only a hole in the ground.
But they're more than a hole to the Digger,
When the skies hum and "ack acks" pound,
And the dive bombers are doing their damndest,
You thank God for that hole in the ground.
When you moves to a new position,
And the crabs are flying all around,
The first thing you do is look for,
A good spot for a hole in the ground.
If you're lucky you finds bits of canvas,
And you edges it all in a mound,
Cross the top, you puts odd bits of timber,
And there's your new hole in the ground.
And perhaps it's only prophetic,
That through the world, a loud "Hail Hitler" resounds,
With Adolf's last territorial demand,
Will be that flaming hole in the ground.
And one of these days, when we get back to Aussie,
We hears an explosive like sound,
With our reflexes so reconditioned,
We'll fly for that hole in the ground.
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