Poem by Norman Rowland Gale

Rub It In

It's all very well
  For Reginald Dibbs,
Who hasn't been hit
  By a ball in the ribs
And one on the shin
  To shout, 'Rub it in!'

What cheek of R. Dibbs,
  Who, you know, is a sneak,
To scream to you there
  In his high treble squeak,
So strident and thin,
  'O Jones, rub it in!'

I wonder if Dibbs,
  When I punch him to-night,
Will think it was wise,
  Or thoughtful, or right,
To caper and grin,
  And yell, 'Rub it in!'

1. A Wigging
2. The Forerunners
3. Quinquaginta Annos Natus
4. Up at Lords
5. Chuck Her Up

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