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"Damn!" sighs a peach-cheeked midshipman, who "Oh, good shot!" For the second has landed just over and behind the epaulement. "Has it hit the gun?" "No such luck," says the captain: he was down again five seconds after we fired. And the men had all gone to earth, of course. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! Down dives the sapper, and presently his face reappears, with "Headquarters to speak to you, sir."
I'm a Hobo!" The latter very popular. Then there was another, adapted by the Salvation Army from an old music-hall tune, which I heard a battalion chanting lustily as it went slush-slushing up to the firing-line. It ran something like this: "The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you but not for me. For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling, They've got the goods for me.
Then I was aware of a sort of tarpaulin cupboard under the breastwork, of creeping trails of wire on the ground, and of a couple of sappers. The corporal turned down his page of 'Harmsworth's Magazine, laid it on the parapet, and dived under the tarpaulin. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! buzzed the telephone bell. The gaunt up-towering mountains, the long, smooth, deadly guns and the telephone bell!
Again he looked around him, stealthily. "It's h'anted!" said he, desperately. "Missis, listen: I 'uz comin' home from prayer-meetin', 'bout two weeks ago, walkin' back er dis same place in de dark ob de moon. An' all ob a suddin I hyuh de pianner in de pahlor, ting-a-ling-a-ling! ting-a-ling-a-ling!
Scarcely had I taken my seat, ere the bell was in my hand. "There's no sugar on the table, Kitty." These were my words, as the girl entered, in obedience to my summons. "Oh, I forgot!" she ejaculated, and hurriedly supplied the deficiency. Ting-a-ling-a-ling, went my bell, ere she had reached the kitchen. "There's no knife and fork for the steak," said I, as Kitty re-appeared.
Creeper up the back of the house." "Virginia creeper?" asked Miriam. "Canary creeper," said Mr. Polly. "You will 'ave it nice," said Miriam, desirously. "Rather," said Mr. Polly. "Ting-a-ling-a-ling. Shop!" He straightened himself up and then they all laughed. "Smart little shop," he said. "Counter. Desk. All complete. Umbrella stand. Carpet on the floor. Cat asleep on the counter.
"Ting-a-ling-a-ling" went the bell, as if in answer to my resolve. "Confound the luck!"
The bells of hell ring ting-a-ling-a-ling For you, as you shall see." Enid Crofton sat up in bed. She felt suddenly afraid horribly, desperately afraid. As is often the case with those who have drifted away from any form of religion, she was very superstitious, and terrified of evil omens. During the War she had been fond of going first to one and then to another of the fashionable sooth-sayers.
Finally, because she could think of nothing else to do, and less than nothing to express, she forced a smile. "All right. Now the phone rings. Ting-a-ling-a-ling! Hesitate, and then answer it." She hesitated and then, too quickly, she thought, picked up the receiver. "Hello." Her voice was hollow and unreal. The words rang in the empty set like the ineffectualities of a ghost.
O Death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling, O Grave thy victoree? The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling For you but not for me!"
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