Wangled from Headquarters’ cookhouse.
And that night my Tiadatha,
Wet and weary from the trenches,
Found a cheery wood fire blazing,
Found a most uncommon fug up.
“It is well,” said Tiadatha,
“It is well, my soldier servant,
Well and truly have you served me.
Take this tin of Craven Mixture,
Take this tin of Royal Beauties,