fair broke our backs. We 'ad a sort of seizure on parade and 'ad to fall
out till we got our breaths back.

* * * * *

THE RECOGNISED.

Give ear to my words and you shall hear
The song of the British Volunteer,
Who started out when the War began
As a middle-aged mostly grey-haired man.
Too old to be sent to join the dance
Of the doughty fellows who fought in France,
He refused to go on the dusty shelf,
And he set to work and he bought himself
A spirited grey-green uniform,
With a cap to match and a British warm,
And he took his fill
Of the latest drill;
But somehow they didn't seem to prize him
Or wish in the least to recognise him.

But now they have let him cast away
His excellent clothes of green and grey;
They think they can use him,
And don't refuse him,
And they've dressed him up and they've dressed him down
In a regular suit of khaki brown;
He has been gazetted
And properly vetted