Out at the front two regiments, returning to the trenches, chanced to
meet. There was the usual exchange of wit.
"When's the bloomin' war goin' to end?" asked one north-country lad.
"Dunno," replied one of the south-shires. "We've planted some daffydils
in front of our trench."
"Bloomin' optimists!" snorted the man from the north. "We've planted
acorns."