THE CONVALESCENT.
We've billards, bowls, an' tennis-courts; we've teas an' motor-rides;
We've concerts nearly every night, an' 'eaps o' things besides;
We've all the best of everything, as much as we can eat—
But my 'eart—my 'eart's at 'ome in 'Enry Street.
I'm askin' Sister every day when I'll be fit to go;
"We must 'ave used you bad," she says, "you want to leave us so;"
I says, "I beg your pardon, Nurse; the place is bad to beat,
But my 'eart—my 'eart's at 'ome in 'Enry Street."
The sheffoneer we saved to buy, the clock upon the wall,
The pictures an' the almanack, the china dogs an' all—
I've thought about it many a time, my little 'ome complete,
When in Flanders, far away from 'Enry Street.
It's 'elped me through the toughest times (an' some was middlin' tough);
The 'ardest march was not so 'ard, the roughest not so rough;
It's 'elped me keep my pecker up in victory an' defeat,
Just to think about my 'ome in 'Enry Street.
There's several things I sometimes want which 'ere I never see;
I'd like some chipped potatoes' an' a kipper to my tea;
But most of all I'd like to feel the stones beneath my feet
Of the road that takes me 'ome to 'Enry Street.
They'll 'ave a little flag 'ung out, they'll 'ave the parlour gay
With crinkled paper round about, the same as Christmas Day;
An' out of all the neighbours' doors the 'eads'll pop to greet
Me comin' wounded 'ome to 'Enry Street.
My missis—well, she'll cry a bit an' laugh a bit between;
My kids'll climb upon my knees—there's one I've never seen;
An' of all the days which I 'ave known there won't be one so sweet
As the day when I go 'ome to 'Enry Street!
"I can only add that neither total prohibition nor no prohibition will have any more effect on the course and conclusion of this war than Mrs. Malaprop's besom had on the Atlantic Ocean."—Letter in a Provincial Paper.
Mrs. M. should have called in the assistance of Mrs. Partington.
"It should be as widely known as possible that if people found a baby when there was the slightest possibility of a person being still alive, it was their duty to cut it down if hanging, or take it out of the water, if it was a case of drowning."—Provincial Paper.
But what is one to do if it is merely squalling in a perambulator?
