Why, Trevelyan, the martyr to candour,
Who lately his office resigned,
Though waters were heaving has sunk without leaving
The tiniest ripple behind.
In fine, though there fall to our fighters
Too many hard buffets and humps,
'Tis a comfort to think that our blighters
Are down in the deadliest dumps;
And whatever the future may bring us
In profits or pleasures or pains