480
PARTISAN REVIEW
Each laughing at the other's tears,
All bol"n too late or killed too soon,
Wonder when one sun will return
To light and time all lives alike.
Edouard Roditi
THE UNIFORM
To wear a blood-red uniform
John left the plough and joined the army.
He saw the world and kept his form,
Lived in the pink: those days were palmy.
Armies, at peace,
Are kept like tarts;
Make love an art
And war a sport.
But when John Fed-up left the army
John Guardsman was John Civvie;
And hungry John saw days less palmy,
Too proud to be a navvy.
His job was joy.
Now he must learn
To make sport pay
And pleasure earn.
John walks the streets, strolls in the park.
His coat is torn, his shoes need mending.
He picks up buggers after dark.
How does he live? Just bending.
And John Ploughboy is John -J oyboy
Who tries blackmail and lands
in
jail,
Far from the fields, the uniform.
A hopeful youngster, now a hustler,
John keeps on swearing: " Catch me again wearing
My King and Country's bloody blood-red uniform!"
