62
BALLADS OF BATTLE
And you arise to toil and trouble,
And certainly to "double! double!"—
Of the day's drills, most grudged of all,
That lagging hour called "physical!"
And certainly to "double! double!"—
Of the day's drills, most grudged of all,
That lagging hour called "physical!"
Breakfast, of tea, and bread, and ham,
With just a colouring of jam;
Or, if you have the sous to pay,
A feast of œufs and café-au-lait.
With just a colouring of jam;
Or, if you have the sous to pay,
A feast of œufs and café-au-lait.
Comes ten o'clock and we fall in,
With rifle cleaned, and shaven chin;
Once more we work the "manual" through,
And then "drill in platoons" we do
Till one, or maybe even two.
At last "cook-house" the pipers play,
And so we dine as best we may.
With rifle cleaned, and shaven chin;
Once more we work the "manual" through,
And then "drill in platoons" we do
Till one, or maybe even two.
At last "cook-house" the pipers play,
And so we dine as best we may.
And now a shout that never fails
To fetch us forth, "Here come the mails!"—
While one rejoices, t'other rails
To fetch us forth, "Here come the mails!"—
While one rejoices, t'other rails
