The following notice has been observed on the board in a certain office:

"Drill" every Wednesday during "Stand easy!"

* * *

Voice of an aged C.P.O. who has been born and bred in the Navy: "Of all the 'orrible things that 'ave 'appened in this 'orrible war, the 'orriblest is these women coming here."

"SOME YARN."

You want me to tell you a yarn Ma'am,

A tale o' the war, maybe?

When I sailed on H.M.S. Ford, Ma'am,

A fine little craft was she.

I'll tell you that tale, Ma'am, wie pleasure,

As it always seems fresh in my mind;

Them days when we hadn't much leisure,

And work was a merry old grind.

Shipwrecks, Ma'am? Sure they were many;

But first you must hear o' the Crew;

Bright as a shining new penny,

Except for a measly few!

The skipper? She were quite good, Ma'am,

But varied with weathers a bit;

She hadn't much heart for the crew, Ma'am,

But lor! if your craft got a hit!

Our P.O.'s were always good fun, Ma'am,

Every girl jack were a gem'

And as for the ratings - my word, Ma'am,

'Nuff said - you see, I'm one o' them!

Their names, Ma'am? Well now, you are askin'.

There were Taylor, O'Brien, and Wright,

Perelle, East, and Romney - oh, lor, Ma'am,

I must stop, or I'll be here all night.

And now you would hear o' the shipwrecks?

They were many and varied, you see;

We'd stick on the mud twice a day, Ma'am,

Then send S.O.S. out with glee.

Our tank, maybe, would run dry, Ma'am'

A terrible crime 'mongst our lot'

And then we'd send out all a tremblin',

In fear of the slating we got.

There were days when our craft would foul, Ma'am,

And days when she'd fly like a bird'

But we'd take good and bad both as one, Ma'am,

And of grousing you'd ne' er hear a word.

Our dockyard were up due no'-west, Ma'am,

'Twas a place we did not like a lot'

The dockers were too sort o'bossy,

And sometimes made things pretty hot.

Now our chief port o' call - the Controller's,

Was a joy, and all day in great haste

We'd ply to and fro in our craft, Ma'am,

Feeding waste-paper baskets with waste.

And now I must end up my yarn, Ma'am'

I was never much good wi' my pen'

But I guess you'll have gathered a bit, Ma'am,

Of the Albany Street Garage "Wren".

M. de la PERELLE