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[Page 62]

"Our Billets"

Our billet is "airy" Our Billet is "sweet"
You can smell the dam place as you come up the street,
A manure heap in front, a manure heap behind,
Why, man, you're in clover, that is - of a kind

The place is quite "Holey", and oft unawares
The wind comes whistling with various airs,
It is a bit draughty, but, then, you are told
To live in fresh air, keeps one clear of a cold.

The straw that you lie on was laid on the floor,
When France was at war

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