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FORESTER'S
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They’re tramping through the forest |
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They’re brushing past the undergrowth |
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They have but one desire |
They’re greatest thought, their highest aim, |
| To see in Britain, Peace again |
| They have no tanks or rifles, |
| They have no stripes or drill, |
| They have no ships or aero planes |
| But Britain needs them still, |
| They’re fighting hard with axe and saw |
| They’re Britain’s ‘Women’s Timber Corps’. |
| They’re proud of their profession, |
| Bad weather does not count; |
| They bring the tall trees crashing down |
| The piles of pit props mount, |
| They’re doing their bit to win the war |
| This almost unknown ‘Timber Corps’ |
by
J. I. Melvin
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Another poem |
Timber Corps Poem
The Other Way |
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"Lumberjills" of Scotland
THE OTHER WAY
There is a land, or
so I’m told,
Where timber girls ne’er feel the cold,
Where trees come down all sned and peeled,
And there’s no need an axe to wield.
The transport’s never broken down,
And Jill's go every night to town.
How different here in snow and sleet,
Shivering with wet and frozen feet.
But wait, the sun’s come out at last,
And summer’s here and winter’s past,
The lumberjills work all the day -
Who’d have it round that other way?
By Hilton Wood |
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