Custom
(First Formal Officers’ Mess Dinner)
The bell for Dinner sounds its solemn dirge
As I sit pensively within my room.
I feel an almost overpowering urge
To flee from formal pomp’s depressing gloom.
Yet, in reflecting on my attitude,
I realise the folly of my thought.
So I get dressed and go, despite my mood,
To meet cold Custom in its solemn Court.
This is the first of many such a night;
Familiarity will cure my fright.
