Whose disbelief in modern weapons was his undoing.
Our S.M.O; one Colonel Fiennes,
Displayed a great contempt for mines.
'Pooh! Pooh!' he'd say and also 'Pshaw!
I never heard of them before.
If they exist—and that I doubt—
They're nothing one need fuss about.
Just drive straight on—I always do—
And they will never injure you!'
As those who say of wasps: 'Keep still,
And it won't sting!' Oh yes it will.
But as with wasps the beastly mines,
Did show a tolerance of Fiennes,
Who kept on motoring to and fro,
Remarking, 'See, I told you so!'
While left and right, trucks and their drivers
Were going up: the maimed survivors,
As they came limping into mess,
Could tolerate him less and less.
'I'd like to see,' you'd hear them sigh,
"The silly (Colonel) blown sky high!'
Th' Eumenides, slow at the gate,
Reserved their effort for the straight
And, full of running, overtook
The Colonel just outside Tobruk,
Where, as he bathed one day, he saw
A Horrid Object washed ashore,
With Horns before and Horns behind
Such as adorn—well, never mind.
A prey to curiosity
He cried 'Whatever can this be?'
There came a sudden warning shout,
'Hi! don't you muck that there about!'
Too late, a horn in either hand,
He'd started for a Better Land.
Moral: Ponder the fate of Colonel Fiennes
And don't you muck about with mines.