And one immense and sharp-toothed tin
Came whistling down, to my chagrin,
And caught me smartly on the shin—
By Jove, it made me jump.
A hideous wound. The blood that flowed!
It was a job to dress;
I hobbled bravely down the road
And reached a C.C.S.;
Nor was I so obsessed with gloom
At leaving thus the field of doom