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(A ditty composed for the use of a second secretary in the Foreign Office in March 1942) Macao? Macao? Where the devil’s Macao? We’re bothered by telegrams all the time now. By Golly, it’s true we did send a Consul But forgot him the same as we would a lost tonsil. There he is encocooned like the smallest of larva The only one left from Siberia to Java, And, looked at again, from Chungking to Chile. It’s really absurd; the position too silly. But in they keep coming these bothersome cables They are filling the pigeon-holes, piling the tables. Then give him routine this solitary fellow Alone in an East so fast turning yellow. “When did you say was his telegram one? January 1st? Well, it’s got to be done It’s only March now; we’ll send him a word. What? Answer his question? Don’t be absurd. Surely by now we’ve learnt to use phrases Which leave every question in primeval hazes. Remember our motto, now how does it go? “A fig for all Consuls. God bless the F.O.” The Song of the Second Secretary ...

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