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Robert W Service - Politeness
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The English and the French were met
Upon the field of future battle;
The foes were formidably set
And waiting for the guns to rattle;
When from the serried ranks of France
The English saw with woeful presage
Under a flaming flag advance
A trumpeter who bore a message.

`Twas from their Marshal, quite polite,
Yet made the English leader shiver.
"We`re perched," said he, "upon the height,
While you`re exposed beside the river.
We have the vantage, you`ll agree,
And your look-out is melancholy;
But being famed for courtesy
We`ll let you fire the starting volley."

The English General was moved,
In fact his eyes were almost tearful;
Then he too his politeness proved
By writing back: "We are not fearful.
Our England is too proud to take
The privilege you thrust upon her;
So let your guns in thunder break:
To you, M`sieu, shall be the houour."

Again a note the Marshall sent
By envoy for his battle station:
"Your spirit wins my compliment,
Your courage my appreciation.
Yet you are weak and we are strong,
And though your faith is most inspiring,
Don`t let us linger all day long -
Mon General, begin the firing."

"How chivalrous the soul of France."
The English General reflected.
"I hate to take this happy chance,
But I suppose it`s what`s expected.
Politeness is a platitude
In this fair land of gallant foemen."
So with a heart of gratitude
He primed his guns and cried: "Let`s go men!"

The General was puzzled when
No answer came, said he: "What is it?
Why don`t they give us hell?" And then
The herald paid another visit.
The Marshall wrote: "to your salute
Please pardon us for not replying;
To shatter you we cannot shoot . . .
My men are dead and I am dying."
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