March'd the Six Hundred!
"Barracks, and tables laid!
Food for the Pope's Brigade!"
But ev'ry Celt afraid,
Gazed on the grub dismay'd—
Twigg'd he had blunder'd;—
"Who can eat rancid grease?
Call this a room a-piecc?" *
"Silence unseemly din,
Prick them with bayonets in."—