Volume 156 — AT PARIS PLAGE.
Reading edition
Oft have I begged the high gods for a boon, That they would bear me from the Flanders slosh Back to a desert not made by the Bosch, The sunny Egypt that I left too soon. O silvery nights beneath an Eastern moon! O shirt-sleeved days! O small infrequent wash! O once again to see the nigger "nosh" The camel, rudely grunting (out of tune)! Loudly I called; the high gods hearkened not Till came the signal and the big guns ceased; But then they brought me to this sea-kissed spot, Heeded my prayer and gave me back at least One of the pleasures that of old I knew, For here once more there's sand within the stew.
GIVING HIM ROPE?
GERMAN CRIMINAL (
to Allied Police
). "HERE, I SAY, STOP! YOU'RE HURTING ME! [
Aside
] IF I ONLY WHINE ENOUGH I MAY BE ABLE TO WRIGGLE OUT OF THIS YET."