Robert Service

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.