World War II
popular verse

By
Guze Cassar Pullicino

In this article we try to re-evoke some aspects of the Maltese people's spontaneous reaction to certain changes brought about in everyday life as a result of World War II. We try to do so not by reference to official documents, wartime memoirs and diaries or published accounts which make up quite an impressive bibliography, but by referring to several expressive rhymes and songs, for the most part anonymous, which one could hear in the streets of our towns and villages in those eventful years. This irregular or doggerel verse was recited or sung sometimes on tunes or motifs of popular English songs of the day. We limit ourselves here to three aspects of wartime life: air attacks, conscription and Victory Kitchens.

As a result of frequent air attacks and bombardments whole families left their homes and practically lived in underground shelters. More adventurous people, however, preferred to watch and observe the battle scene from some vantage point. The English translations that follow give an idea of the contents of the rhymes but miss the clinching effect of the Maltese originals:

The air-raid warning sounded, as I was putting on my pyjamas;
rather than seek shelter I went straight up to the roof.
I turned my face and saw the searchlight's rays.
The planes were diving, the guns were firing...
Another verse that was popular at the time ran as follows:
There was an air raid lasting two hours, four-engined airplanes
coming by night. These make loud noises, they throw bombs big and
small, indiscriminately.

When conscription was introduced the rhythm of normal life was further upset:

I had a little fishing boat. Conscription came, I was called up.
I was rich - now I'm poor. And I had to use the musket!

The recruits enrolled by conscription reacted to the discipline and rigours of army life. Those in the King's Own Malta Regiment and Royal Malta Artillery gave vent to their feelings in several catchy rhymes on the running theme that "a soldier's life is no life at all". Here are a few examples:

Every morning you go for breakfast - what fun! Tea without sugar,
a few biscuits with bread. They give you half an ounce of bacon.
You wish to throw it all away, even if it means starvation.
Look where they've brought us. They've placed us inside tents.
And all this to teach us how to serve the Crown.
I don't like army life. Bread and bacon, bully beef!
At daybreak every morning you've to get up at six.
You make your bed and pitch your tent,
and give your boots a bullshine.

This is the army, Mr Jones. With mug in hand queue up for tea and don't expect to have your fill. Sausages and butter is all you'll get. Then you set out on a route march And your head whirls!

There we stand for all to see. Some washing their face, some having a bath. And then together, they all get shaved. And ready for the round. We are the conscripts. We've joined the KOMR, Now stationed at the Guarena*, deprived of our homes, deprived of our lovers, deprived of everything. You could see us marching by, wearing khaki shorts and shirts. Everything is OK, for we've joined the RMA. (*18th-century palace at Qrendi.)

Soon after the all-clear signal you set off to clean the cannon,
with a bucket in your hand full of hot water.
Gone is your conceit! Goodbye to your fine clothes!
Now it's anti-aircraft pompoms and machine-guns.

When the food situation became acute and siege conditions were being experienced, the Government opened the so-called Victory Kitchens which were later extended to cover the two islands. The system, however useful, was quite unpopular and people were vociferously critical of both the fare provided therein -pasta, sardines and goat's meat - and of the female staff employed. They vented their displeasure in a series of triplets or groups of three lines sung on an old folk tune, e.g.

Baked pasta in trays and people in array
at the Victory Kitchen.
Minestra and sardines, pasta and beans
at the Victory Kitchen.
What a treat on New Year's Day! They made us eat sardines
at the Victory Kitchen.
Their legs are so fat, they eat so much grub,
the girls at the Victory Kitchen.
Lipstick-laden maidens with polish on their nails
at the Victory Kitchen.
Their hair set all wavy to flirt with boys in the navy,
the girls at the Victory Kitchen.
The kitchen staff were not slow to retaliate by saying
We served you goat's meat, which you had to eat
from the Victory Kitchen.

(Source: MALTA This Month, March 1998)

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