From ‘Wing’ magazine, 140 Wing Gutersloh, February 1946
Ramsbotham Joseph was getting his kit, “What size shirts?” snapped the erk i/c store, Joe said “size two”. Said the erk, “three’ll do”, So they issued him three of size four.
When it came to the blue, Joseph looked a rare sight, The corporal said “Try this one please!” So Joe put on trousers, the hat and the coat, Which stretched from his ears to his knees.
Then came the boots, Joe tried a few, While the storeman, his patience all spent, Made nasty remarks about Joe’s family tree, And where he could go when he went.
But Joe heeded not as he tied up his boots, (Heeded not is not meant as a pun.) For the NAAFI was up and Joe disappeared, In quest of a tea and a bun.
But quick as he was, he was not quick enough, For the “chiefy” caught him at the door, And told him, in way leaving no room for doubt, To “Git this ‘ere kit orf the floor!”
So Joe stuffed his kit in his arms, in his ears, On his head, down his tunic, until it Burst forth from his hold and fell to the ground, Thereby blazing a trail to his billet.
His abode safely reached, Joe was right on his knees, And his bed, though so hard, was perfection, But he’d hardly laid down when a voice bellowed out, “Git this kit laid out sharp for inspection!”
It must be a great life, I think I’ll sign on For twenty-four, twelve or six years, Well maybe six months. Well maybe six weeks. Though don’t let me change your ideas.