Snug at the club two fathers sat,
Gross, goggle-eyed, and full of chat.
One of them said: My eldest lad
Writes cheery letters from Bagdad.
But Arthurs getting all the fun
At Arras with his nine-inch gun.
Yes, wheezed the other, thats the luck!
My boys quite broken-hearted, stuck
In England training all this year.
Still, if theres truth in what we hear,
The Huns intend to ask for more
Before they bolt across the Rhine.
I watched them toddle through the door
These impotent old friends of mine.
