Ode to a Lady Awdly

(After Shelley's "Sky Lark")

Hail to thee Sweet Maiden!
Man thou never wert -
That on getting porridge,
Puttest all thy heart
At breakfast time, and makest toast with simple, girlish art.

Heavier still and heavier
Are the loads thou carriest
(Oh! thrice happy feller
Whom some day thou marriest!)
And carrying still doth smile, and smiling ever carriest.

In the golden bright'ning
Of the rising sun,
To the stores, like lightning,
Thou dost quickly run -
Fighting for the porridge isn't half bad fun.

The male nursin' awdlies
Faint around thy flight:
The grim Quartermaster
Melts at thy very sight -
To our own Third General thou bringest life and light.

What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
Truly here we know not
Any V.A.D.
Who doth surpass thy value, thy strength and energy!

Teach us half the gladness
That thy feet must know -
Through the huts and building
Trudging to and fro -
Our lips would smile as thou art smiling now!

A V.A.D.