Many Wear The Robes, But

Our England Is A Garden, And Such Gardens Are Not Made By Singing 'oh How Wonderful' And Sitting In The Shade, While Better Men Than We Go Out, And Start Their Working Lives By Grubbing Weeds From Garden Paths With Broken Dinner Knives.

Gentleman-rankers Out On The Spree, Damned From Here To Eternity.

But Remember Please, The Law By Which We Live, We Are Not Built To Comprehend A Lie, We Can Neither Love Nor Pity Nor Forgive. If You Make A Slip In Handling Us You Die.

Delight In The Little Things.

A Man Can Never Have Too Much Red Wine, Too Many Books, Or Too Much Ammunition