It certainly was pretty windy around the Masonic temple today. You know two girls were passing; one had red, white and blue stockings on and the other green; they were going in the opposite direction. I didn’t know which to look at, but decided to see America first.
Sousa and I got together a couple of seasons ago. His band was going to play my songs. I met him the other day just as I was going into a saloon. He said: “Nat, my band of 300 men will accompany you.” I said: “That’s all right with me, Phil, but do you think there’ll be room?”
Captain Jones was a very round-shouldered and eccentric officer.
On a particularly dark night in Egypt, while practicing his company in outpost duty, he approached one of the sentries who failed to halt him.
In a great rage the officer demanded of the now trembling sentry the reason why he had omitted to challenge him.
“If you please, sir,” stuttered the confused soldier, “I thought you was a camel.”
Two privates met the other morning near the canteen, which, from the fact that a monkey was kept on the counter, was popularly known as the “Monkey House.”
“Halloa, Jack,” said the first. “You look a bit off this morning.”
“Yes, Bill,” replied Jack. “I haven’t the price of a wet.”
“Neither have I,” replied Bill; “but I think I know how to get a couple of pints. Come into the Monkey House.”
They entered the canteen and Bill called for two pints. While the barman’s back was turned Bill hit the monkey a clout on the head, which caused the animal to scream out.
“What was that for?” asked the barman, wrathfully.
“Not the first time he has done that,” shouted Bill, angrily.
“Why, picked up my shilling and swallowed it,” replied Bill.
“Well,” said the indignant barman, “why didn’t you tell me before you hit the monkey? There’s your two pints and your sevenpence change. And don’t you interfere with my monkey again.”
The scene was a cinema palace, as they call ’em in England, where the Somme battle-pictures were being flickered.
As the Warwickshires were seen going over the top to the attack, an excited Birmingham man exclaimed, triumphantly: “What about your Highland regiments now?”
As luck would have it, there was a short, bandy-legged Scot in a kilt within hearing.