Grand-pere
And so when he reached my bed
The General made stand:
“My brave young fellow,” he said
“I would shake your hand.”
So I lifted my arm, the right,
With never a hand at all;
Only a stump, a sight
Fit to appall.
“Well, well. Now that’s too bad!
That sorrowful luck,” he said;
“But there! You give me, my lad,
The left instead.”
So from under blanket’s rim
I raised and showed him the other,
A snag as ugly and grim
As his ugly brother.
He looked at each jagged wrist;
He looked, but he did not speak;
And then he bent down and kissed
Me on either cheek.
You wonder now I don’t mind
I hadn’t a hand to offer....
They tell me (you know I’m blind)
‘Twas Grand-pere Joffre.
Robert Service
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