Jessie Pope

EN the beagles are running like steam,
When the plough is as sticky as glue,
When the scent is an absolute scream,
And there's wire in the fence to get through Who waits to look after his pal

Foe and friend and foe again,
Turning coat and turning yet,
That's a feat you don't disdain,
De Wet

Darkness expectant, discreet Only a lamp here and there,
Gloom in the clattering street,
Stygian black in the square;
Dazzling fascias and fronts,

When Blucher helped us make an end Of Bonaparte, the common foe,
He came to England as a friend,
About a hundred years ago
The sight of London fired his breast,

By bridge and battery, town and trench,
They're fighting with bull-dog pluck;
Not one, from Tommy to General French,
Is down upon his luck

[The most noteworthy characteristic of a wet summer is the number of proposals made in the rain
] Beneath an Ilfracombe machine,
While thunderstorms were raging,
Strephon and Chloe found the scene Exceedingly engaging;

When I asked my dear Edwin to shave I'd never a thought of denial;
He'd been such an absolute slave,
I put his devotion on trial
But his eye threw a sinister dart,