A huge horse rose above the wall of the tent And hung there a second like a bad prodigy, A frozen scream full of hoofs. He struck at its head And tried to get out from under as it lunged down But he wasn’t quite quick enough. As he slipped and fell He saw the laughter pasted on Bailey’s face But before he could hear the laugh, the horse had fallen, Jarring the world. After blunt, sickly time A fat young man with a little pink moustache Was bawling “Hey, Yank, surrender!” into his ear And nervously waving a pistol in front of his eyes. He nodded weakly. “Hey, boys,” called the fat young man, “I got two Yanks!” His mouth was childish with pleasure. He was going to tell everybody he had two Yanks. “Here, Yank, come and pull the horse off the other Yank.”