It was a contest of opposites
Charm and beauty versus brawn
Very consciously that day
Lines had been drawn.
The officer, dapper and slim
The ranker squat and square
Two different cultures meeting
As if fate had placed them there.
The only similarity apparent
That made the Officer sigh,
Each of them wore a monocle
Clenched tightly in one eye.
One of them small and slim
The best money could procure
The other NHS prescription
Basic, serviceable and sure.
They stood staring at each other
One full of angst and outrage
One deferentially poker faced
Standing there centre stage
For long long seconds
They stood rooted in that place
Until with obvious effort
One did a quick about face
And sauntered nonchalantly
Off the Regimental square
Left a half inspected squad
Still standing to attention there.
The point having been made
The contest called a draw
Discretion being exercised
Monocle never worn anymore
The ranker relishing in
All the bets that he'd won
For daring to wear it
The way he'd just done.
Queen's regs being checked
There's was found no reason why
A ranker shouldn't wear one
To correct the vision in one eye.
To avoid future confrontation
Concessions were quickly made
And the ranker never ever
Wore his monocle on parade.
For an officer Is an officer
And at all times must show
Necessary steps will be taken
To maintain that status quo.
