The papers praised him greatly.
Ballad: The Two Majors
An excellent soldier who's worthy the name
When good, he's content with escaping all blame,
Or imprisoned for several days,
To be slavered with sickening praise.
No officer sickened with praises his corps
No officer swore at his warriors more
Delighted to hear their abuse;
They shivered and shook in their shoes.
For, oh! if LA GUERRE could all praises withhold,
And, oh! if MAKREDI could bluster and scold,
Go on--you're conferring a boon;
Than praised by a wretched poltroon!"
MAKREDI would say that in battle's fierce rage
Poor MAJOR MAKREDI, though fifty his age,
No tipple is worthy to clink."
Yet tasted his favourite drink!
They agreed at their mess--they agreed in the glass--
And they also agreed in adoring, alas!
And after agreeing all round
A bone of contention they found!
It may seem improper to call such a pet--
But though they agreed in adoring her, yet
(With a pistol he quietly played),
All over the stony parade!"
"I cannot do THAT to you," answered LA GUERRE,
But this _I_ CAN do--IF YOU wed her, mon cher!
Yet quarrelled whenever they met;
But neither took pretty FILLETTE.
"I am/am.html">am/am.html">am not afraid," thought MAKREDI PREPERE:
But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandiere,
He's one of the bravest of men:
I might disagree with him then."
"No coward am I," said LA GUERRE, "as you guess--
But I don't want PREPERE to get into a mess
Came CORPORAL JACOT DEBETTE,
To give him the pretty FILLETTE.
"You see, I am willing to marry my bride
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