Written By Carol Small, Middlesex Centre Archives
Often, in wartime, our thoughts turn to the horrors, suffering and grief. However, the arts had a role to play. Soldiers in the trenches, on sea, in the air and on the battlefield turned to the arts – writing for comfort. Often the writing was in poetry such as John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields”. Other Canadians such as Frank Prewitt, Bernard Freeman Trotter, and W.W. Ross have had their poems published.
However, here in Middlesex Centre, several poets also put pen to paper. They included Ethel Robson and Cyril Clemence, about whom we wrote in our last article. Their poems centred around the Middlesex 135th Light Infantry Battalion. The Middlesex 135th consisted of soldiers from across Middlesex County and commanded by Colonel Bart Robson, The Farmer Colonel. The Middlesex 135th began recruitment in 1915 and sailed for England in August 1916. Because of disastrous British military losses, the Middlesex 135th was disbanded and sent to bolster the British military regiments.
Included in this article are poems from Ethel Robson and Cyril Clemence, with credit given to “London Township a Rich History Volume I, Pages 344 and 346”.
The Call of the 135th
by Ethel Robson, Denfield,
January 17, 1916
Boys of Middlesex, your country calls you!
Boys of Middlesex, to your own selves be true!
The Empire calls you to her hour of need!
The Empire calls you, surely you will heed!
Boys of Middlesex, you have such fertile farms,
Boys of Middlesex, your nation calls to arms,
Think not that your whole duty has been done
Because you’ve turned your furrows, one by one.
Mothers of Middlesex, your sons are called to fight,
Mothers of Middlesex, send them for truth and right.
How long can they a spotless name retain
When others bleed and they at home remain?
Mothers of Middlesex, ‘tis hard to see them go,
Mothers of Middlesex, ‘tis harder still to know
Because you hold your son back from the fray
The ruthless enemy goes conquering on his way.
Fathers of Middlesex, who have sired your sons,
Fathers of Middlesex, they’re calling from the guns
For men to take their place of those who fall,
Stir up your sons to answer that stern call.
Sisters of Middlesex, be glad that you have brothers
Sisters of Middlesex, be proud to send them to the colors,
Though dearer than all words they are to you,
They’re dearer still when to their country true.
Sweethearts of Middlesex, stay not the men who love you,
Sweethearts of Middlesex, pry to the God above you
That He will give to all men of this nation
Both courage and fidelity to be your compensation.
Sons of Middlesex, but sons of Britain, too.
Sons of Middlesex, to your birthright be true,
Your king and country call you, answer them,
Enlist with Col. Robson, show that you are men.
A Call From the 135th
by Cyril Clemance
in September 1916
from Battalion Camp, England
You can talk of all the regiments
That have come from far and wide.
But you never saw a better lot
Than the boys of 1-3-5
For some of them are farmers
Right off the Canadian land
They heard the call of Britain
And have gone to lend a hand.
There’s our good Colonel Robson,
And Lieutenant Jackson too;
They left their farms in Canada
Their little bit to do.
And some of them from London,
That dear old Canadian town,
Who have given up home and loved ones
To help put the Germans down.
And now we are in England,
Not far from the firing line.
Major Charlton is with us also,
Who makes things more sublime.
Now soon we’ll be fit for the trenches
Then away we will gladly go.
So come on boys, and help us
To beat the common foe.
Just stop and think a minute
Of the boys who have gone before
They gave up home and comforts,
And some of them gave more.
For some of them gave their limbs,
And others gave their sight;
Still others gave up willingly
Their own dear precious life.
They gave these all for you, boys,
That your loved ones would be free,
So put the King’s own khaki on
And help smash Germany.
And when the war is over,
And you return again,
You can show the Canadian people
That you have played the game.
