Ii

A tent, with a table athwart, A table that's laid out for one; A waterproof cover--and nought But the limp, mangled work of a gun. A bottle that's stuck by the pole, A guttering dip in its neck; The flickering light of a soul On the wondering eyes of The Wreck, And it's War! 'Orderly, hold his hand. I'm not going to hurt you, so don't be afraid. A ricochet! God! what a mess it has made!' And it's War! and a very unhealthy trade.