As for fourteen months the Dudshires Hadn’t moved behind their field-guns Save for concentrated training, They were charmed with Doya Tepe, Found it like the open country After being in a tunnel. Quite a pleasant spot for warfare, Really rather like the Picnic, Like the Salonica Picnic, They had read of in the papers. Still they had their job of watching, Watching for a raiding party, Guarding all their miles of frontage, Every night on sentry duty Or patrolling in the valley, Digging trenches in the daytime, Or fatigues and wiring parties. But the crumps were far less frequent And the gunners far less busy, And it really was a blessing To walk upright in the open, Caring not for pipsqueak merchants, Caring not for hidden snipers. Sometimes Captain Tiadatha Rode along his front line trenches, Spent a useful morning shooting Half a mile beyond the trenches, Brought down several brace of partridge And a hare or two for dinner. Soon too he became acquainted With the small hotel at Snevce (Foremost pub in Macedonia), Where the food was quite delightful And the liquor even better; Where he spent some pleasant evenings Very cheery, noisy evenings, With a band of rowdy cronies From his own and other units. Soon he found his way to Kukus (Having made some generous allies Who owned kite balloons and tenders), To that quaint and dirty village, Rising phœnix-like from ruins, Learnt the Greek for eggs was _avga_, Haggled with the Kukus robbers For a melon or a cabbage, Or an oke of tomatoes, Bought some mats or bits of copper. Watched the local comitadji, With their lady wives and daughters, In the glory of their war-paint, In their native Balkan costume, All the colours of the rainbow, Riding in upon their donkeys, On their clumsy bullock wagons, Bringing in their goods to market.