THE BALLAD of ENSIGN JOY By E.W. Hornung E. P. Dutton & Company 1917 THE BALLAD of ENSIGN JOY [Ill 0001] [Ill 0007] [Ill 9011] IS is the story of ````Ensign Joy ````And the obsolete `````rank withal ````That I love for each gentle English `````boy ````Who jumped to his country's `````call. ````By their fire and fun, and the `````deeds they've done, ````I would gazette them Second to `````none ````Who faces a gun in Gaul!) |IT is also the story of Ermyntrude ````A less appropriate name ````For the dearest prig and the `````prettiest prude! ````But under it, all the same, ````The usual consanguineous squad ````Had made her an honest child `````of God-- ````And left her to play the game. |IT was just when the grind of `````the Special Reserves, ````Employed upon Coast Defence, ````Was getting on every Ensign's `````nerves-- ````Sick-keen to be drafted `````hence-- ````That they met and played tennis `````and danced and sang, ````The lad with the laugh and the `````schoolboy slang, ````The girl with the eyes intense. |YET it wasn't for him that she `````languished and sighed, ````But for all of our dear deemed `````youth; ````And it wasn't for her, but her `````sex, that he cried, ````If he could but have probed `````the truth ! ````Did she? She would none of his `````hot young heart; ````As khaki escort he's tall and `````smart, ````As lover a shade uncouth. |HE went with his draft. She `````returned to her craft. ````He wrote in his merry vein: ````She read him aloud, and the ````Studio laughed! ````Ermyntrude bore the strain. ````He was full of gay bloodshed and ````Old Man Fritz: ````His flippancy sent her friends `````into fits. ````Ermyntrude frowned with `````pain. |HIS tales of the Sergeant who `````swore so hard ````Left Ermyntrude cold and `````prim; ````The tactless truth of the picture `````jarred, ````And some of his jokes were `````grim. ````Yet, let him but skate upon `````tender ice, ````And he had to write to her twice `````or thrice ````Before she would answer him. |YET once she sent him a `````fairy's box, ````And her pocket felt the brunt ````Of tinned contraptions and `````books and socks-- ````Which he hailed as "a sporting `````stunt!" ````She slaved at his muffler none `````the less, ````And still took pleasure in mur- `````muring, "Yes! ````For a friend of mine at the ````Front.") |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