I couldn't find the title for this poem. If anyone knows it, send a comment.
By A.P. Herbert
The
General inspecting the trenches
Exclaimed with a horrified shout
‘I refuse to command a division
Which leaves its excreta about.’
Exclaimed with a horrified shout
‘I refuse to command a division
Which leaves its excreta about.’
But nobody took
any notice
No one was prepared to refute,
That the presence of shit was congenial
Compared to the presence of Shute.
No one was prepared to refute,
That the presence of shit was congenial
Compared to the presence of Shute.
And certain
responsible critics
Made haste to reply to his words
Observing that his staff advisors
Consisted entirely of turds.
Made haste to reply to his words
Observing that his staff advisors
Consisted entirely of turds.
For shit may be
shot at odd corners
And paper supplied there to suit,
But a shit would be shot without mourners
If somebody shot that shit Shute.
And paper supplied there to suit,
But a shit would be shot without mourners
If somebody shot that shit Shute.
Source:
No comments:
Post a Comment