When Gilbert’s birthday came last spring, <br />Oh! How our brains were racked <br />To try to find a single thing <br />Our languid dear one lacked; <br />For, since he nestled at his ease <br />Upon the lap of Plenty, <br />Stock birthday presents failed to please <br />The Nut of two and twenty. <br />And so we bought to suit his taste – <br />Refined and dilettante – <br />Some ormolu, grotesquely chased; <br />A little bronze Baccante; <br />A flagon of the Stuart’s reign. <br />A ‘Corot’ to content him. <br />Well, now his birth’s come again, <br />And this is what we sent him. <br /> <br />Some candles and a bar of soap, <br />Cakes, peppermints and matches, <br />A pot of jam, some thread (like rope) <br />For stitching khaki patches. <br />These gifts our soldier write to say, <br />Have brought him untold riches <br />To celebrate his natal day <br />In hard-won Flander’s ditches.<br /><br />Jessie Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-nut-s-birthday/
