Parry Truscott, Punch, Volume 147, Issue 3823… (19th and 20th century)
“ Uphill all the way to our place, it is, an' Pleeeeman 'e fair lost is wind. Pleeceman 'e look very fierce—'tis the uniform as does it, you don't deceive me. Pleeceman 'e says, 'That's right, my fine fellow; you sit at 'ome in your easy-chair,' 'e says, snoring o' nights on your feather bed, while the brave chaps as is gone to the front lie on planks o' wood an' eat their soup without so much as a spoon, for the sake o' them who won't bestir theirselves though the trumpet calls."" ”
