Volume 153 — HERBS OF GRACE.
Reading edition
IX.
PENNYROYAL.—A CAROL.
"Far away in Sicily!"— A home-come sailor sang this rhyme, Deep in an ingle, mug on knee, At Christmas time. In Sicily, as I was told, The children take them Pennyroyal, The same as lurks on hill and wold In Cotsall soil. The Pennyroyal of grace divine In little cradles they do weave— Little cradles therewith they line On Christmas Eve. And there, as midnight bells awake The Day of Birth, as they do tell, All into bud the small plants break With sweetest smell. All into bud that very hour; And pure and clean, as they do say, The Pennyroyal's full in flower On Christmas Day. Far away in Sicily!— Hark, the Christmas bells do chime! So blossom love in thee and me This Christmas time! W.B.
Lady (to uniformed friend). "I SHOULDN'T A BIT MIND WEARING UNIFORM IF ONLY ONE COULD CHOOSE ONE'S OWN COLOURS AT THE WAR OFFICE."
