There used to be a young Cadet who liked luxuries,
High-spoken, quite handsome and full of all gallantries.
He was eighteen years old when he joined the Regiment,
Perhaps thinking that War would be an Experiment.
When he became an officer, he bought a shiny Sam Browne,
A tunic made from the finest fabrics, a new revolver,
A fancy lieutenant’s cap, and a helmet’s leather liner;
He was the favourite of military tailors all around.
And, elegant like a Napoleonic soldier,
His silver-made whistle seemed to make him much bolder.
He went over the top with his men. I cried: “Hark! a Shell!”
But they say that you never hear the last one that fell.