The Brigadiers concealed in Burberries,
And render all those pomps and dignities
Which are, of course, the raison d'être of guards.
"With what avail? for never a guard is mounted
That does not do some wild abhorrent thing,
Only in hushed low tones to be recounted,
Lest haply hints of it should reach the KING—
Dark ugly tales of sentinels who drank,
Or lost their prisoners while imbibing tea,
Or took great pains to make their minds a blank