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