Now why did Arthur Hoare pull out
A sovereign with a happy shout
And give it rashly to his scout,
Who almost had a fit?
Why of a sudden did he fling
A hard-boiled egg at Eustace Ling,
Forgetting how an egg can sting
The person who is hit?
Why after dinner did he turn
In fury on his room, and burn
His old oak chairs with unconcern?—
A stupid thing to do!
And why so harshly did he pelt
With forks a fresh and timorous Celt
Afraid to utter what he felt?
Arthur had got his Blue!