So my mother sets her a plate of duck and some apples, whatever was going, in where she bid, and we got to our supper and she to hers; and when we rose I went in, and there, lo and behold ye, was her supper-plate a bit ate of each portion, and she clean gone!" 1897.

So 'ere's our philosophy, simple an' plain: Wotever we 'ates in the bloomin' campaign, 'Tis balm to our souls, as we grumble an' cuss, To feel that the Boches are 'atin' it wuss.

By people as I've allus 'ated like poison! MARY.