home | foreword | roll of honour | the poems | links

 

JOCKO'S LEECH

Poor old Jocko
he did not look too well,
pale~faced and sweating
he had a funny smell;
his lower belly swollen
and his cheeks quite white,
poor old Jocko
he looked a sorry sight.

His soldier's stride did falter,
he dropped his heavy gun
and fell full stretch in padi field
upon his muddy bum;
fearful whispered to us
the dreadful, awful fact,
some unkind leech had lodged itself
and dammed his urine tract.

And all the soldiers' horror
was reflected in the sound
as they sucked their teeth in sympathy
at Jocko on the ground;
the sharp intake of nervous breath
as they held him down,
trying all the tricks they knew
to get at leech's nest.

But all their tricks they tried in vain
and mindful of the dreadful strain
they called a dust-off quick and neat
to whisk him to the surgeon's sheet;
where the dreaded pest removed
freed his natural drain,
and poor old Jocko
joked and smiled again.

© John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR

 

home | foreword | roll of honour | the poems | links