That they might be somewhat safer
From the beastly little pipsqueaks,
From the most unpleasant whizzbangs,
From the great big five-point-niners,
And the crumps the eight-inch how. sends.
Then one day quoth Tiadatha,
“I am sick of leafy bowers,
I am sick of bivvy shelters;
They are too darned cold for one thing,
Much too narrow for another.