Looks at telegram sadly.
Oh wretched me! On this glorious day
When I should have been in the thick of the fray
I lay in bed
With a cold in my head:
Hot water bottles, Quinine and Squills
Mustard Plasters, and Camphor Pills.
And when they tell of this victory
They do not so much as mention ME!
While peans of praise and plaudits pour
On the Lord—and the Fourteenth Army Corps!
Weeps.
Enter chorus of Highborn Lady Nurses bearing clinical thermometers.
First Nurse:
Oh Sire we entreat!
Second Nurse:
This is most indiscreet!
Third Nurse: