Cat with Nine Lives
In the year 1914, I picked up a gun,
One of Kitchener’s lads, for to battle the hun,
And us West Kent boys stopped him in his tracks dead,
As the angel of death hovered over our heads.

Surrounded and captured, it was our sad lot,
And all of us stood to that wall to be shot,
But a bold under-officer spared us our life,
He spoke English well , had a Liverpool wife.

And sometimes I wonder if fate it decides
Which of us goes under and who will survive,
Is there someone up there who decides on it all,
Or is it just down to the luck of the draw?
On the spin of a coin or the roll of a dice,
Sometimes I felt like a cat with nine lives.

A prisoner now, I must stand in line,
Spat at and called “filthy Englishe schwein”
In their tunnels and mines I endured so much strife,
Those two years I laboured and feared for my life,

Til five of us broke out and made our escape,
Those dreams of home cooking and true loves who wait,
And all of us made it to that remote farm,
But caught and recaptured holed up in that barn.

And sometimes I wonder if fate it decides

And that Prussian officer said I had been,
So stupid and English to have such a dream,
“Escape is Impossible”, proud he proclaimed,
Oh how I wish wish I had taken his name

Well that thought of home cooking it still beckoned me,
In a long marching column we plotted us three,
The line had its guards at the front and the back,
But that bend in the road, and the hedge with a gap.

And sometimes I wonder if fate it decides

Towards the Dutch border we made for to fly,
We wasted no time those 2 Frenchmen and I,
Our uniforms turned inside out saved the day
Though one was retaken , we two.got away

With brave Captain Fryatt I crossed o’er the sea,
So dreadful his fate a month later would be,
To the King I was summoned said “tell unto me,
Of how our prisoner lads fare in deep Germany.
And sometimes I wonder if fate it decides

Now my French companion not as lucky like me,
Sent back to the front to join his company,
He sent me a letter all from the front line,
Said his deeds were not recognised as were mine.

And often I think and look back on those things,
And give hearty thanks for what each new day brings
Of a brother who fell out there on the front line,
And those lucky escapes I had time and again. .

And sometimes I wonder if fate it decides