He “got it” quickly in the neck—a blade of polished steel.
Then Bill and Breezy dragged their prize into the Squadron’s lines,
Cut up the mass of quivering flesh in various designs.
With plenty swords available they soon got off the hide;
In less time than it takes to tell the billy-goat was fried.
That night the stew was “counted out” and mutton reigned instead,
And when old Abdul “counted in” his flock he hit his head
In anger, for he came upon the remnants of the oats
That Breezy Bob distributed to snare the Mukhtar’s goats.
Since then the Military Police are looking for a clue;