From a poultice to a leech; whom you haven’t got to teach
The way to make a poppy fomentation.
Singing pillow for you, smoothed; smart and ache and anguish smoothed,
By the readiness of feminine invention;
Singing fever’s thirst allayed, and the bed you’ve tumbled made,
With a cheerful and considerate attention.
Singing succour to the brave, and a rescue from the grave,
Hear the nightingale that’s come to the Crimea,
’Tis a nightingale as strong in her heart as in her song,
To carry out so gallant an idea.