“Do you remember an inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an inn?
**********
**********
“And the shouts and the jeers
Of the young muleteers,
**********
**********
Do you remember an inn?”
He struggled manfully to the end, ignoring all the ribald remarks coming from some quarters and when he had finished he acknowledged the sparse applause; definitely not the sort of poetry expected by the licentious soldiery.