*'Her Majesty Has Been Pleased--'*

Wot a crowd of people! Wot a sea of faces! 'Ow the ladies' parasols are glist'nin' in the sun! Troops in 'open order,' Captains in their places. Wish the day was over, and I wish the job was done!

Wot a lot of civvies! Mus' be 'arf the city! Like a mob on Boxing-night outside Drury Lane! Ain't it perfect weather? More's the blessed pity! Wish instead of sunshine it was pourin' 'ard o' rain!

Comes of bein' famous-- Mentioned in despatches! Comes of me a-carrying the Major to the rear! Empty stomach fighting-- Getting sleep by snatches!-- 'Ow the troops must cuss me for a-keeping them out 'ere!

'Ow the people eye me, Like a choice chrysanth'um! 'Ow this collar's chokin' me!--Lord! I'm feelin' sick! Troops are at the 'shoulder'-- 'Pre-sent'--there's the anthem! 'Ow I 'ope 'er Majesty will get it over quick!

Wonder if I'm dusty? 'Elmet feels lopsided! Chuck a chest for 'Eaven's sake! Lord, I'm feelin' queer! Twenty times they've brushed me, Twice 'ave I been tidied, Yet I'm feelin' mucky still. Private Jawkins? 'ERE!

Face the lan-dow panels, Dumbly; likewise blindly, Seein' in a sorter mist a lady dressed in black: 'Ear 'er sof'ly talkin'. Thanks, mum, thank you kindly! Saw the Major fallin', and I 'ad to take 'im back!

Thank you, mum--your 'Ighness-- Majesty, I mean, mum! 'M sure I'm much obliged to you for this 'ere pretty Cross! Bless you, you're a lady! Mean you are the Queen, mum! On'y picked the Major up an' shoved 'im on an 'orse!

'Saw our Sub go under, 'Alf 'is men around 'im Cut to bits--an' 'im so young,--yes mum, very sad. Yes mum, 'e was buried In the place we found 'im. Thank you, mum,--your Majesty (God, I'm feelin' bad!)