Gethsemane.....................................

The Garden called Gethsemane   

In Picardy it was,   

And there the people came to see   

The English soldiers pass.

We used to pass - we used to pass   

Or halt, as it might be,

And ship our masks in case of gas   

Beyond Gethsemane.

The Garden called Gethsemane,   

It held a pretty lass,

But all the time she talked to me

I prayed my cup might pass.   

The officer sat on the chair,

The men lay on the grass,   

And all the time we halted there

I prayed my cup might pass.

It didn’t pass - it didn’t pass -

It didn’t pass from me.

I drank it when we met the gas   

Beyond Gethsemane.

-Rudyard Kipling

Kipling's only son died fighting in the First World War. 

 His story is here.