Fifty-Fifty: A Gas Mask Romance

I met you first in a gas-mask, dear; 
   You wore one, too, my sweet. 
But your voice was low and soft and clear 
   And you had such pretty feet. 
Your regal carriage won my heart, 
   For I sensed your soul was fine. 
I was a youthful reckless chap, 
So I took a chance on your hidden map, 
   And I asked you to be mine. 

I saw you first in a gas-mask, love,   
   You wore a rose-red gown. 
And a dozen aircraft high above 
   Were raining gas-bombs down. 
You were unnerved; but so was I; 
   And when you sought to press 
My hand, I felt the hot blood race; 
And, tho' you could not see my face, 
   You promptly murmured, "Yes."

We met and loved in our gas-masks, pet; 
   And the war would not be-gone, 
And air raids loomed each time we met, 
   So we kept the darn things on, 
Till I grew quite fond of your gargoyle guise 
   And mine appealed to you, 
As we sat and sighed, all goggle-eyed, 
While bombs burst round at eventide, 
   And vowed we would be true. 

Wedded, we stood at the old church door 
   (Ah, let the ribald scoff) 
When there came a sudden end to war 
   And we took our gas-masks off ... 
So that is you! Well, this is I! 
Courage. Take heart, dear wife. 
I heard your gasp; you heard my groan! 
Let's put them on again, my own, 
   And wear them all thro' life.