My kitbag was a heavy load,

my arms were dead with cramp

as I trod along the Weeton Road

that leads to Weeton Camp.

No transport passed me on the way

the rain was falling fast,

as I stopped a thousand times to say

my favourite damn and blast.

When all seemed lost I saw it,

its gates were open wide

it, was like the new Jerusalem,

where no one was denied.

I entered and forgot my pain

this garden paradise,

like a jewel set in fields of grain

under cloudless skies.

Was this the place they called Weeton

known throughout the land,

as the place that can’t be beaten

for killing aircraft hands,

There are airman in asylums

there are corporals neath the sod

and sgts. mad and raving

in the temples of their god.

For it looks so sweet and placid

as it stretches in the sun

with its neat and flowery entrance

and its lawn so neatly done

you’d never dream from outside

what a hell it is within

and theres no place like the outside

when once you venture in.

But if you care to pause awhile

and remember this is war

and realise just why your here

and what your fighting for

you didn’t come to Weeton

to find your balls upon your doors

your breakfast served on serviettes

and carpets on the floor.

No you came just as your fathers did

not many years ago

in answer to an urgent call

to meet and beat the foe

and he’s moan and groan the same as you

between his pints of mild

and he had his little rendezvous

in some local bird and child.

and there he’d talk of days gone by

of Passchendaele and mens, or friends he’d lost

and friends he’d find

The memories linger on, but you can’t talk

of Passchendaele and all its bloody cost

But you can still have memories

of friends, you’ve found and lost.

But you as great a part have played,

and have fought a Passchendaele on

that - lovely - Weeton - Road.

Found typed in the possessions of W/O. ‘Titch’ Albert Frederick Halliday - it is not known if he wrote it.

Titch served as an air gunner in 75 Squadron RNZAF. He survived the war, but sadly died on the 9th May 1966. A veteran’s page was created for his daughter Ann who also supplied some great photographs during his fathers service.

Passchendaele - A Belgian town, the scene of the first major battle of the first World War - 400,000 allied casualties with nearly 400,000 German soldiers also killed in just four months!

15 July 2022: Terence Black contacted us as follows: I was pleased to come across the poem on your website. My Mother-in-Law (deceased) was stationed at Weeton during the war. When she died, I found a copy of the Weeton poem amongst her things written in pencil on old-fashioned letter writing paper. Note - the 6th verse at the end - 'bird and child' refers to the local pub the 'Eagle and Child'. The lady talked about her time at Weeton a lot.