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A Soldier's Reminiscences

Ernest Hastings
Lingua: Inglese


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The Military Representative
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[1915]
Scritta da Bert Lee ed Ernest Hastings
Testo trovato qui ma alquanto mal messo, sicchè ho provato a sistemarlo un po’ benchè il mio inglese sia abbastanza scarso (se qualcuno sa fare di meglio, si faccia avanti)

A Soldier's Reminiscences, 78 rpm

Uno dei cavalli di battaglia di Ernest Hastings, il cabarettista che abbiamo già trovato interprete di The Military Representative.
Anche qui il protagonista è una sorta di “Rip van Winkle”, un vegliardo ormai affetto da alzheimer o demenza senile ma spedito comunque in trincea a combattere.
In Gran Bretagna, dopo l’introduzione della coscrizione obbligatoria nel 1916, l’età massima per divenire carne da cannone fu progressivamente innalzata, dai 41 fino ai 51 e addirittura ai 56 anni… Vi rendete conto cosa volesse dire aver 50 anni nell’Europa di 100 anni fa?!? L’aspettativa media di vita in tempo di pace non era tanto più alta! E, non contenti, i macellai inglesi sprofondarono nella Grande Guerra anche 250.000 ragazzini sotto i 19 anni, il limite inferiore previsto dalla legge per andare a combattere overseas
I am an old Soldier with hair iron grey
My mem'ry's not bad tho' I'm sixty today
Or else sixty two… I can't be sixty four
Well, maybe I am, but I'm not a day more.

I can reckon it out, I was born in… dear me!
Why at that rate I must be turned seventythree
Dear me, this confusion it makes me upset
Why I'm eighty, I think… I forget, I forget!

Only loved once, 'twas a girl called Elaine
Elaine or Priscilla, no! Perhaps it was Jane
However, one evening my brain in a whirl
I went to her father and asked for the girl.

Said he “Which girl is it? for I possess three”
I said “Gladys Maud is the best girl for me”
Now did he consent in a tone of regret
Or say “Take the three?”… I forget, I forget!

I first joined the Army in seventeen ten
No, that can't be right for I wasn't born then
'Twas eighteen six three, wrong again, it was no
That's somebody's telephone number I know

They asked me what regiment I'd like to choose
Would I join the Hussars? I said “No, the Who's?”
'Twas with General Buller, we captured De Wet
Or did he catch us?... I forget, I forget!

Ah! well! I suppose that I get very old
And I'm not so much use in the Army I'm told
So I just jog along as the days come and go
And wait for the call that is coming I know

When the final halt comes, and I hear the last call
That comes from the Greatest Commander of all
Then whatever there is in the past to regret
I shall hand up my sword and just hope He'll forget.

inviata da Bernart Bartleby - 28/12/2015 - 15:21



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