The Ballad of Ensign Joy

ONE fine morning his name
appears —
Looking so pretty in print!
"Wounded!" she warbles in
tragedy tears —
And pictures the reddening
lint,
The drawn damp face and the
draggled hair.
But she found him blooming in
Grosvenor Square,
With a punctured shin in a
splint.

IT wasn't a haunt of Ermyn-
trude's,
That grandiose urban pile;
Like starlight in arctic altitudes
Was the stately Sister's smile.
It was just the reverse with
Ensign Joy —
In his golden greeting no least
alloy —
In his shining eyes no guile!

HE showed her the bullet that
did the trick —
He showed her the trick,
x-ray'd;
He showed her a table timed to
a tick,
And a map that an airman
made.
He spoke of a shell that caused grievous loss —
But he never mentioned a certain
cross
For his part in the escapade!

SHE saw it herself in a list next
day,
And it brought her back to his
bed,
With a number of beautiful
things to say,
Which were mostly over his
head.
Turned pink as his own pyjamas'
stripe,
To her mind he ceased to em-
body a type —
Sank into her heart instead.

I WONDER that all of you
didn't retire!"
"My blighters were not that
kind."
"But it says you 'advanced un-
der murderous fire,
Machine-gun and shell com-
bined – '"
"Oh, that's the regular War
Office wheeze!"
"'Advanced' – with that leg! —
'on his hands and knees'!"
"I couldn't leave it behind."

HE was soon trick-driving an
invalid chair,
and dancing about on a crutch;
The haute noblesse of Grosvenor
Square
Felt bound to oblige as such;
They sent him for many a motor-
whirl —
With the wistful, willowy wisp of
a girl
Who never again lost touch.

THEIR people were most of
them dead and gone.
They had only themselves to
His pay was enough to marry
upon,
As every Ensign sees.
They would muddle along (as
in fact they did)
With vast supplies of the tertium
quid
You bracket with bread-and-
cheese.
please.

THEY gave him some leave
after Grosvenor Square —
And bang went a month on
banns;
For Ermyntrude had a natural
flair
For the least unusual plans.