What sudden hush when that machine-gun sweeps,
And—flat as possible for men so round—
The Quartermasters may be seen in heaps,
While you sit still and chuckle, I'll be bound!
Here all men halt awhile and tell their rumours;
Here the young runners come to cull your tales,
How Generals talked with you, in splendid humours,
And how the Worcestershires have gone to Wales;
Up yonder trench each lineward regiment swings,
Saying some shocking things;