Fustian, which so little meaning—little relevancy bore
To the rule of me and SOLLY; but, although it may sound folly,
This strange fowl a strange resemblance to "Our Only General" wore,
To the W-LS-L-Y whose pretensions to sound military lore
Are becoming quite a bore.
But the Raven, sitting lonely on that much-peeled bust, spake only
Of our Army as a makeshift, small, ill-manned, and precious poor.
Drat the pessimistic bird!—he grumbled of "the hurdy-gurdy
Marching-past side of a soldier's life in peace." "We've fought before,
Winning battles with boy-troops," I cried, "We'll do as we before—"