Straightway to his section,
Bearing the Rum Jar
Now lacking the liquor.
Then, puffing with pride
And the pace of his running,
Told he a tale
Of the Slaying of Seven;
But little belief
In the count of the killing
Gat Sid from the section,
Wrathy withal
At the loss of the liquor.
And one thing Erb,
Erb that erstwhile
Hight his old Pal,
Had for an answer:
"Bale hast thou brought
And rede of bale
Have I for thee."
Then troth they took
And oath swear betwixt them
That for four years full
Or the War's duration
He should draw and drink
Sid's ration of Rum.
So doom was decreed
For the loss of the liquor.
But Sidni the Storeman
Transferred to the Transport.