Poem by Robert William Service

The Enigma

The Sergeant of a Highland Reg-
-Iment was drilling of his men;
With temper notably on edge
He blest them every now and then.
A sweet old lady standing by,
Was looking on with fascination,
And then she dared this question shy,
That pertubates the Celtic nation.

"Oh gentle Sergeant do not scold;
Please tell me, though your tone so curt is:
These bare-legged boys look sadly cold -
Do they wear wool beneath their skirties?
The Sergeant's face grew lobster red,
As one who sends a bloke to blazes...
Then: "round about turn, squad," he said;
"Now blast you! bend and pick up daises."

1. The March of the Dead
2. The Cremation of Sam Mcgee
3. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
4. Comfort
5. The Atavist

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