Trudging By Corbie Ridge One Winter'S Night, (Unless Old, Hearsay Memories Tricked His Sight), Along The Pallid Edge Of The Quiet Sky He Watched A Nosing Lorry Grinding On, And Straggling Files Of Men; When These Were Gone, A Double Limber And Six Mules Went By, Hauling The Rations Up Through Ruts And Mud To Trench-Lines Digged Two Hundred Years Ago. Then Darkness Hid Them With A Rainy Scud, And Soon He Saw The Village Lights Below. But When he'd Told His Tale, An Old Man Said That he'd Seen Soldiers Pass Along That Hill; "Poor, Silent Things, They Were The English Dead Who Came To Fight In France And Got Their Fill."