Poems: Softie

This is another poem that I learned from my mother. It is a Canadian WW I poem but I have never found a source for it. This is from my memory. I beleive that Ms. Knight lived around the Thunder Bay area at the time of the war.

Softie

By Gertrude Cornish Knight

Softie was a soldier,

     with a face just like a girl's.

He had cheeks as pink as rosebuds

     and a head of chestnut curls.

His eyes so blue and tender,

     were full of artless mirth,

And he'd a voice, the sweetest tenor,

     that I'd ever heard on earth.

He was crazy over love songs

     and he sang them sweet and true.

He was crazy for the ladies

     and he didn't care who knew.

But he railed 'gainst war & bloodshed,

     they fair moved the lad to tears.

So of course we were astonished

     when he joined the volunteers.

Boys he said, I'm such a Softie,

     for I hate your swords and guns

And its just that stern word duty

     that would make me face the Huns.

So that's how we called him Softie,

     fact he gave himself the name

And we couldn't help but wonder

     how the lad would play the game.

But he stood camp life and drilling

     just as good as any there

And he seemed to like the teasing

     'bout his pretty face and hair.

He kept the boys good humoured

     with his music and his wit

And if just in song and laughter,

     dear old Softie did his bit.

There was one song that he gave us,

     heard him sing it 50 times

And to me it lingers sweeter

     than a great cathedral's chimes.

It was something 'bout a tulip,

     yes that's how the story goes,

"You wear a yellow tulip

     and I'll wear a big red rose."

The ladies, they all loved him

     and he knew it too, the rouge

And twice he got the guard house

     for stopping on the road

And rolling up those big blue eyes

     at a girl he thought he knew,

Instead of marching forward

     as a soldier ought to do.

In every town in which we halted

     on our way to hapless France,

Softie left some girl behind him,

     with the love-light in her glance.

And the treats they showered on him

     keep our whole platoon supplied.

He had just 14 Bibles,

     each one from a would-be bride.

When at last we struck the trenches

     Softie paled and held his breath,

While he openly acknowledged

     he was well nigh scared too death.

We all laughed and called him coward

     and were sure he'd come to grief,

Though there wasn't one among us

     but was shaking like a leaf.

We'd been fighting just a fortnight

     when one eve our captain stood,

With 3 score men about him

     in a sheltered bit of wood.

When all at once a bomb came hurling

     straight toward us at a bound,

But someone sprang and caught it

     just before it hit the ground.

Like a shot he leapt beyond us,

     left us standing safely there.

Then the crash of an explosion

     and the shrapnel filled the air.

There was silence for a moment,

     then the captain raised his cap,

"Boys," he said, "Softie saved us

     but he's gone himself, poor chap."

And we called that hero Softie.

     Well there's one thing now I know.

I'll think no man a Softie

     'til I've seen him face the foe.

He'd saved him chums and captain.

     Could a soldier boy do more

To keep the old flag flying

     where the British lions roar?

We buried him at midnight

     that battered broken form,

That had been as fair and perfect

     as a rosebud of the morn.

And as the chaplin read the service

     and his clear voice fell and rose,

I seemed to hear old Softie

     singing about his big red rose.

In this locket I've a treasure

     set around with gold and pearls.

No, its not a ladies ringlet

     but just one of Softie's curls.

And when war and strife are over

     far beyond where Jordan flows,

I'll know that Softie's happy

     singing about his big red rose.