"My God, I've forgotten it, Benners, forgotten the rest of the song," Fitzgerald exclaimed, throwing his unlighted cigarette on the floor and gripping his hair with both hands as if going to pull it out of his head. Then, as if thinking better of it, he brought both his hands to his sides and sat down on his original seat, his whole face betokening extreme self-pity.
"My memory!" he exclaimed. "My memory! Why was I brought into being?"
A minute's silence followed, then an eager glow lit up Fitzgerald's face. A happy inspiration seemed to have seized hold of him. "Benners!" he exclaimed in an eager voice. "Have you a cigarette to spare, Benners?"
"Gorblimey!" laughed Bubb. "Listen to 'im. 'E's always on the 'ear-'ole for fags, an' 'e throws arf of 'em away. 'E's not arf a nib, ole Fitz."
"Good Heavens, how can I endure such remarks from a damned Sassenach! (I beg your pardon, Bubb)" Fitzgerald exclaimed, gripping with both fingers the cigarette which Benners had given him and breaking it in two. "You don't understand me, Bubb, you can't. I don't bear you any malice, but, heavens! you are trying at times.... By the way," he added, "can you give us one of your songs?"
Bubb looked at Fitzgerald for a moment then lit a cigarette and got to his feet.
"Wot about Ole Skiboo?" he asked, addressing the remark to all in the room.
The soldiers knew that he was going to oblige and applauded with their hands.
Bubb fixed his eyes on the patronne and started:
"Madame, 'ave yer any good wine?
Skiboo! Skiboo!
Madame, 'ave yer any good wine?
Skiboo!
Madame, 'ave yer any good wine
Fit for a rifleman o' the line?
Skiboo! Skiboo! Skiboolety bill skiboo!