Page:War, the Liberator (1918).djvu/125

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An intimate acquaintance
With our old Number 5.[1]

So all you little Bosches,
That listen to my lay,
Stick closely to your rifles,
And clean them every day,
And every night and morning
Just fill yourselves with rum,
For you’ll need all your ration
The day the Seaforths come.

  1. No. 5 Mills hand grenade, a handy little bomb.
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