From Trentham.

Dora, by all that's kind,
Why ruin Archie with your love? The scamp,
Who once thought nothing of the hardest grind,
Now keeps away from camp.

Why does he no more care
To take with us the matutinal dip,
And charm the public with his martial air
And finished horsemanship?

Why is it now a bore
To bruise his shoulder at the butts, when he
Won the Gold medal with the biggest score
E'er made with a .303?

Say! does he hide his light,
As did Achilles ere Troy's day was come,
Lest, donning khaki, he be sent to fight
The hordes of Junkerdom?

—H.L.F.