_The Volunteer._ Thank Heaven I'm there, although I mixed my feet! I am oblivious of the little things That mark the due observance of a drill; And Thomas sees my faults and grins again. Let him grin on; my time will come once more At dinner, when he hands the Brussels sprouts. [_The drill proceeds._ Now we're in fours and marching like the wind. This is more like it; this is what we need To make us quit ourselves like regulars. Left, right, left, right! The Sergeant gives it out As if he meant it. Stepping out like this We should breed terror in the German hordes And drive them off. The Sergeant has a gleam In either eye; I think he's proud of us. Or does he meditate some stratagem To spoil our marching? _The Sergeant._ On the left form squad! _The Volunteer._ There! He has done it! He has ruined us! I'm lost past hope, and Thomas, too, is lost; And in a press of lost and tangled men The great broad back of Batts heaves miles away. [_The Sergeant explains and the drill proceeds._ _The Volunteer._ No matter; we shall some day learn it all, The standing difference 'twixt our left and right, The bayonet exercise, the musketry, And all the things a soldier does with ease. I must remember it's a long, long way To Tipperary, but my heart's---- _The Sergeant._ Dismiss! R. C. L. * * * * * MARCH AIRS. AT long last the War Office is waking up to the value of bands for military purposes, and a good deal of interest will be aroused by the discussion now proceeding as to the best airs for use on the march. The following suggestions have been hastily collected by wireless and other means:-- From the Trenches: "Why not try 'Come into the garden mud'?" From a very new Subaltern: "I had thought of 'John Brown's Body,' but personally I am more concerned just now with Sam Browne's Belt." From a Zeppelin-driver: "There's an old Scotch song that I have tried successfully on one of our naval lieutenants. It runs like this:-- O, I'll tak the high road and you'll tak' the low road, An' I'll be in Yarmouth afore ye." From the Captain of the _Sydney_: "What's the matter with 'The Jolly Müller'?" From President WILSON: "Have you thought of 'The little rift within the lute,' as played by our Contra-band?" From Admiral VON TIRPITZ: "A familiar air with me is 'Crocked in the cradle of the deep.'" From Sir EDWARD GREY: "If it could be done diplomatically, I should like to see recommended, 'Dacia, Dacia, give me your answer, do.'" From the Crew of the _Lion_: "For England, Home, and Beatty." From an East Coast Mayor: "Begone, dull scare!" From the King of RUMANIA: "Now we shan't be long." * * * * * [Illustration: _Old Farmer_ (_to village Military Critic_). "STRATEEGY? DOD, MAN, YE HAVENA AS MUCKLE STRATEEGY AS WAD TAK' YE ACROSS ARGYLE STREET UNLESS A POLISMAN HELPIT YE."]