Six of us lay in a Dugout
At ease with our limbs astretch,
And worshipped a feminine picture
Cut from a week-old ‘Sketch’.
We gazed at her silken stockings,
We studied her Cupid bow,
And we thought of the suppers we used to buy
And the girls we used to know,
And we all, in our several fashions,
Paid toll to the Lady’s charms,

From the man of a hundred passions
To the Subaltern child-in-arms.
Never the sketch of a master
So jealously kept and prized,
Never a woman of flesh and blood
So truly idealized.
And because of her tender ankle,
And her coiffure – distinctly French –
We called her ‘La Belle Dolores’ –
‘The Vivandiere of the Trench.’

Readings

Dolores read by Danny Webb
Dolores read by Dan Stevens
Dolores read by Charles Dance
Dolores read by Hugh Dancy
Dolores read by Tom Burke
Select reading
Dolores read by Danny Webb
Dolores read by Dan Stevens
Dolores read by Charles Dance
Dolores read by Hugh Dancy
Dolores read by Tom Burke
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