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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
That was their talk. And a sort of a club,
Or a saycret 'ciety, and hub-and-nub,
And sentries just lek souldiers placin',
And takin' their turn of a Sunday facin'
The chapel, and up the road, and grips,
And officers, and passes—“Lips”
Was the word, I believe, and the counterword—
Well, I forget; but still I've heard—
Or a saycret 'ciety, and hub-and-nub,
And sentries just lek souldiers placin',
And takin' their turn of a Sunday facin'
The chapel, and up the road, and grips,
And officers, and passes—“Lips”
Was the word, I believe, and the counterword—
Well, I forget; but still I've heard—
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |