A poem written by J. Hunt was found in a collection of papers. Included for interest and a reference to Jack Stothers. We have no idea how it came into our posession.....

To the boys of Hut 3---31 West Sandling

Out of this war, what shall our profit be ?
Not as a whole, for here the gain is clear
A war-worn world from tyranny set free
A broader freedom- homes were love and cheer
Shall sanctify our Souls at Eventide-
A world where Virtue shall no more require
The sword to shield her from men’s lustful pride.
But what for us, who, round this barrack fire,
Far from our homes and those whose love we prize,
Foregather when the toil of day is o’er?
What for each one shall out of this arise ?
THIS shall our guerdon be- (nor need we more,
And I will make of it a heartfelt song)
Strong friendships which we e’er shall hold in fee
And value priceless, round which thoughts shall throng
In happy multitude in days to be

When we all meet in paths of peace again
With what enjoyment shall we oft recall
The parts we played with hand and heart and brain
In fashioning these friendships each to all.
With what sincerity in generous wine
We all shall pledge eternal constancy.
Nay, more for when the nector of the vine
Shall loosen tongues, what better jests can be
For gentle banter or for boisterous mirth
Than incidents revived from out of the days
When these same friendships – best of all on earth-
Were in the forming how with mocking praise
We shall recall the pipes unearthly shrieks
That were sweet music to the Major’s ears.
How we shall laugh aloud when someone speaks
Of Harvey’s O-S worries: or of fears
The Quarters’ had lest thieves break in and steal
His mouldy tunics or his “two-by-four”
How we shall make the welkin ring with peal
On peal of noisy mirth which, more and more,
Will boisterous grow as one recalls with glee
Brown’s ruby nose, ascribed by us to ale
Tom Hardings kilts one foot above the knee
Ted Walker’s hymns which merited the jail
Ed Campbell’s watch which always stopped at five
Jack Stothers grumblings and his high-brow chat
Bill Mackie’s pipe which no one man alive
But he dare tackle- Parsons many meals
Jim Booth’s wild claim that Browning once said “lets”
Jack Craven’s cane which falls the way Jack feels
And not the least of all the many bets
Of drinks all round which “Dunny” would put up
When “shove-a-penny” was the game he played

How we will laugh-but meanwhile, pass the cup,
And pledge the friendships which shall never Fade.

J. Hunt Stanford

March 13th, 1917