Another three-card Bamforth set today, and if you want my advice, mate, get shot of that red belt/bandolier combination you’ve got strapped across your shoulders, eh?
Which you will be, if you go into battle with a large red ‘X’ on your chest. Yeah, burn them.
No, he hasn’t burnt them, he’s just swapped shoulders. Actually, there’s a serious point being made in this poem, the word ‘traitors’ surely not to be used glibly. To whom might it be referring, I wonder?