Pausing only when a crump came,
Pausing only for a pipsqueak,
Till poor Tiadatha’s back ached,
Till his hands were badly blistered,
And he wearied of the labour.
Called in four stout private soldiers,
Set them too upon the digging,
Helped to fill and tie the sandbags,
Helped to get them in position,
Leaving spaces for a window