A Collection of Poems by Grenadiers over the years


Sam-Sam! - Pick up thy 'elmet


An unknown Grenadier serving in the 3rd Battalion whilst in Palestine 1947

Donated by Major (QM) HN Lucas MBE, formerly Grenadier Guards to  The Grenadier Gazette 1980 No. 3

It was yesterday, at Chelsea Barracks,
Guards were drawn up on parade,
Grenadiers were awaiting inspection
All polished up in scarlet and braid.

But as they were going to Egypt,
Where sun is exceedingly ’ot,
They paraded in khaki sun ’elmets,
Which nigh sent parade right to pot

For Sam, (He’s great-grandson of t’other,
Who dropped musket at Waterloo),
Is accustomed to wear great big bearskin,
And this headgear was summat quite new.

And when Sergeant, in roar like a lion,
Gave usual order to dress,
Sam nodded and dropped his sun ’elmet,
Lor lumme, ’e were in a mess.

He mustn’t break ranks to collect it,
He mustn’t leave ’at lying there,
He mustn’t make any strange movements,
Nor yet leave his napper all bare.

So officer comes to the rescue,
(They’re kinder than at Waterloo),
He picks up Sam’s sun ’elmet for him,
And hands it right back to ’im too

Sam puts on ’is hat, but, poor feller,
White plume has come out of it too,
He puts it in pocket of greatcoat,
By golly, ’e were in a stew

But comrades comes to ’is assistance,
And as clock was preparing to chime,
He fixes plume back in ’is sun ’elmet,
As Colonel arrives—just in time.

Household Brigade Magazine Winter 1957


Extracted from "Palestine Re-visited"


Lieutenant (QM) W.L. Nash Grenadier Guards


"As I looked at the grave of the late Guardsman Roberts

I wondered how many of "The Rocks" will remember subscribing towards a "poem" which the Company dedicated to him,

which as I remember had ten verses and started thus": -

A Comrade came out from England

Away from his native land

Saying good-bye to his loved ones

With a careless wave of his hand

The journey was long and dreary

But he stood it with a smile

Although his hearty was aching

With every passing mile

And ended: -

He was buried with Military honours

Under the burning sand

In a soldier’s grave he’s lying

Here in this Holy Land

Household Brigaded Magazine Spring 1954


I first met Bill in London, some three hundred years ago,

I was up from Berwick, he from France you know.

The year was ’Sixty-one, the year they crowned King Charles,

The year that we became the Earl of Albermarle’s.


We were not twain for long for Jock had made us three,

Marching over Europe, twixt the Danube and the sea.

We beat the French at Blenheim, under Marlborough’s wing,

And again at Dettingen, by following our King.


Once more we’re on the March, in Portugal and Spain,

Hunting Boney’s eagles, through mountainous terrain,

Until at Waterloo, the Duke led the attack.

Which finally did brake the Napoleonic back.


A Queen now reigns in London, but out in the Crimea,

 Bill and Jock and I fought the Russian bear.

If anyone was wounded, and could no farther tramp,

His wounds were carefully tended by the Lady with the Lamp.


In Egypt we rode camels o’er the desert sands,

Seeking out the Mahdi and his Dervish bands.

From Egypt to the Cape to fight against the Boer,

While at home the Queen permitted Mick to make us four.


Till now our national emblems were Shamrock, Thistle, Rose,

But now in Flanders’ trenches, where the poppy grows,

Taffy from the Rhondda (by King George’s royal decree).

Entwined his Gallic Leek within the other three.


Since then, we’ve had another war, some of us in tanks,

While others dropped from aircraft to turn the hostile flanks,

But most of us were Infantry, as we have always been,

In service of our country and our King and Queen.


And now that it is peace, we get the oddest work,

Taking part in operas and strikes we cannot shirk.

But cometh peace or war, you’ll find when all is done,

That we are One in Five and likewise Five in One.





Page Last Update: -  11/09/2017