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Dave B's Jacket


It's a facet of forces culture
Not just a well founded rumour
That a mate's misfortune appeals
To their black sense of humour.
It was a strange occasion really
Full of people making a racket
And in the noise and confusion
Dave burned a  hole in his jacket.

There were too many visitors
For the clothes rack to handle
So he'd laid it down on a table
Not seeing the burning candle
We saw the smoke arising
And wavering in the air
And Dave suddenly realised
He'd left his jacket there.

He wasn't at all amused when,
Steve, sharp as a razor
Said how very apt as it was
A Regimental Blazer.
Lots of spontaneous laughter but
Old  Dave sadly couldn't hack it.
Like Victoria he wasn't amused
The night he burned his jacket.









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