Though his clothes were old and dirty,
Yet there were no flies upon
Edward, as you'll see anon.

Just before the Mons Retreat
He emerged upon the street
From His Majesty's Hotel,
Where they'd kept him safe and well,
Gratis. But, in spite of this, Ted
Caught the fever and enlisted.

'Twas our gallant pocket-sniper's
Fate to find himself at Wipers,
And because he showed no fear
He was made a pioneer.

For the very sight of wire
Always set his soul afire
(We are bound by early habits--
It reminded him of rabbits);
If the Huns but showed an inch of it
Teddy took what he could pinch of it,
Which was all, for, as I've said,
Flies were not at home on Ted.

Once our friend, by sad mishap,
Fell into a German sap,
And, on rising to depart,
Found a pistol at his heart.
Feeling almost at a loss,