Grey stars agleam in a blank, dead sky 
Grey guns agrowl below. 
Grey clad men out beyond the wire. 
Grey fields in the star-shells glow.

The barrage is a pounding symphony 
That ears attuned cannot hear. 
There's something flicking the parapet 
There's something above you fear!

Not fear of "stopping one" above, 
Or fear for the man beside. 
There's something flicking the parapet 
There's a fear that you cannot hide.

"Stand By!" The rifle is cool in your hand 
And your heart pounds hard and quick. 
There's something flicking the parapet 
Number Three of the squad is sick.

The rifle hurts the palm of your hand 
Like gripping a stiff wire brush 
There's something flicking the parapet 
"Walk slow through the wire, then rush!"

The whistle! The ladders! Up over the edge! 
And your legs seem stiff and sore. 
There's something flicking the parapet 
Number Three is sick no more!

Grey stars agleam in a blank dead sky 
Grey guns agrowl below. 
Grey faces turned to the glowing stars 
Where men lie dead in a row. 

         El Tigre.