In this phenomenon who hails from Guernsey.
We've often met, at pic-nics or at dances,
Young ladies who were good at shooting—glances!
And glances that, alas! have often filled us
With tender feelings, if they have not killed us.
We've met fair maidens, who have found it pleasant
To tramp the moors for grouse, or shoot at pheasant;
Of some indeed who've had a go at grisly;
But never—until now—of one at Bisley.
Yet there she is, and whilst her sisters, sitting