Slaved the likes of Tiadatha,
Officers and private soldiers,
Fighting fire instead of Bulgars.
Many parts they played that evening,
Fireman, policeman, knight and coolie,
Till their eyes were red and burning,
Choc-a-bloc with grit and cinders,
Till their clothes were scorched and blackened,
Till their heads and feet and backs ached.
And that night my Tiadatha