Rhymes of a Red-Cross Man/Grand-père

Grand-Père

And so when he reached my bedThe General made a 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 sightFit to appall.
"Well, well. Now that's too bad!That's sorrowful luck," he said;"But there! You give me, my lad,The left instead."
So from under the blanket's rimI raised and showed him the other,A snag as ugly and grimAs its ugly brother.
He looked at each jagged wrist;He looked, but he did not speak;And then he bent down and kissedMe on either cheek.
You wonder now I don't mindI hadn't a hand to offer:They tell me (you know I'm blind)'Twas Grand-Père Joffre.
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