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."