WAR VERSE and PROSE

Camp News, Volume 3, Issue 147, 6 November 1942, Page 3

WAR VERSE and PROSE

SELECTED BY A.T.M. No. 8. NAZI QUIZ What did Hitler’s parents say on the day he was born? They didn’t say anything— just wagged their tails. ***** . AID AND COMFORT One of the mail censors in Bermuda examined a large envelope addressed to a lady in Berlin. He opened it and found a pair of silk panties. His superior officer ordered it to be confiscated immediately. An American observer suggested, “Why not let it go on to Lisbon? After all it’s only a pair of panties.” “This is total war,” the officer explained, “and this comes under the heading of ‘Aid and Comfort to the enemy’.” • ***** HUSH HUSH Thirty days hath September, Usually reliable sources report; Also April' June and November, It is hinted in semi-official quarters. All the rest, to-day’s communique reveals, Have thirty-one; Save February, which. According to informants who cannot be named But have hitherto proved turstworthy Has (two words censored). ***** FROM THE INVERCARGILL FRONT ..Extracts from a letter written in thanksgiving for a present: “How extremely kind of you to send me that case of whiskey. I have never tasted such marvellous whiskey in my life. I have never tasted such marvellous whiskey and I keep on tasting it. “The whiskey you sent me is marvellous, I keep tasting it, and how kind of you to send this wondrous whiskey which I keep taching. “It’s really mosh kind of you to keep sending me thish whiskey in cases which I keep tashing and tasking hie dock dickery dock. “What kind whishky ole man how ex thash extremely marvellous to tash you greatt fine ud thathank you ole for extraeta estrem whwhaishy inin ain cashcase 60&&&& XX kisses ( 41 youio C II eeri oo 0000 £%ißg.” * * * * CAUTIONARY TALE The chief delight of Thomas Bunyan Is eating lots and lots of onion. And yet unlike his next-door neighbour, He thinks to grow them too much labour. Thus, as he treads his virgin lawns, The humble garden plot he scorns, While, mindful of his family’s needs, His prudent neighbour tends his seeds.

The Autumn comes; for weary weeks Poor Tom must be content with leeks, And onionless, in living death, Is taunted by his neighbour’s breath.