The dreadful battlefield lay still and wan, Wind whistling through the shell-torn trees; And the deathly scene echoed to the groans Of wounded, sobbing, bleeding, dying men. But, as out of a magic dream, a vision appeared: A midget Angel riding on a donkey's back All neatly dressed in schoolgirl clothes With a little halo hovering o'er her head; She wandered, lovely as a dwarfish cloud, Dismounting here and there to give comfort And a bit of head to the maimed and crippled. "Oy, I'm over here" a one-legged soldier bravely yelled, Desperate for a final glorious blowjob; Normally he wouldn't have given such a fat ugly dwarf A second look, but beggars can't be choosers, he thought whimsically.