Horace Annesley Vachell.
Oh, Polly love, oh, Polly, the rout has now begun,
And we must march along by the beating of the drum;
Go dress yourself in your best and come along with me:
I’ll take you to the war that’s in High Germany.
Old English Song.
I have spoken to several prisoners who could speak English, and with no exception they all thought or were told that the British troops were no good at fighting—that it was only niggers we could face. They have got a different view by now: Sergt. Dickson, Coldstream Guards.
“Mister Bull!”
The Germans seem to have gone mad entirely, and are running about like bulls in a china-shop, playing havoc with everything that comes their way. Our business is to wait around until Mister Bull gets properly tired, and then we will lead him off by the nose in proper style: Lance-Corporal E. Twomey.