This poem first appeared in the Christmas issue of 'Canada'.

A PRIVATE IN THE PATS
[Bridgnorth Journal, 20th January, 1917]

	A Princess, Heaven bless her!
  	  Deemed us fit to bear her name;
	And the colours that she gave us,
	  Have we cover’d them with shame?,
	When you talk of “Ypres Salient”
	  In the peaceful days to come,
	Though no “Pat” be left to praise them,
	  Of the “Pats” you’ll ne’er be dumb
Chorus:-
	From Cape Cod to old Vancouver
	  Up, up, and raise your hats;
	Hip, hip, hurrah, hosannah,
	  To a Private in the “Pats”!

	The screeching shells of Flanders,
	  In the gas, and ‘spite the guns,
	No “Pat’s” soul went a-quaking
	  For the horrors of the Huns.
	Sure Fritz e’er found him fearless,
	  With a tit for all his tats,
	Till he learned to dread the valour
	  Of a Private in the “Pats”!
Chorus.
	Brave men from every nation
	  Has the World from stern to stem;
	But “The Pick of God’s Creation”
	  Is just what I’d christen them!
	And when the Last Trump’s sounding,
	  And the cowards squeal like rats,
	Guess I’d take my chance of heaven
	  As a Private in the “Pats”;!
Chorus.
							W. KELLY
Christmas, 1916.