All the Boche’s beastly habits,
When he crumped, and when he didn’t,
How you got retaliation;
Spoke of Véry lights and whizzbangs,
Lewis guns and working parties,
Of his leave, due Friday fortnight,
Of the foibles of his Colonel,
Of the rats that he had captured
With some cheese upon a bayonet.
Then they took him round their trenches,