Dear Mom: Granddaddy Bill Tries His Hand at Poetry

Found scribbled on the back of a memo was this amusing little verse.  An internet search turned up no other versions of it, so perhaps it is his own original musings or merely his recording of some song or similar which his bunkmates sang.  If you happen to know more about its origins than I, please drop me a line and enlighten me.


Thirty-five days in Camp Peary,
Five Weeks of more wrecking hell.
I can’t say I’m sorry I’m leaving,
I’m ready to cruise for a spell.
 
We live like hogs in a mud hole, 
In a 2X4 hut made of tin.
They say the rain makes it muddy,
But it’s only the tide coming in.
 
So I’m packing my sea bag and towel.
I’m washing the mud from my face.
And I don’t give a damn where they send me,
As long as it’s some other place!
 
They can send me to the front in the morning,
And the Axis can turn on the heat.
But if the only way back is through Camp Peary,
Don’t worry I’ll never retreat!

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