Gunga Din
You may talk o’ gin and beer When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere, An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water,
The Declaration of London
We were all one heart and one race When the Abbey trumpets blew. For a moment’s breathing-space We had forgotten you. Now you return to your honoured place Panting to shame us anew. We
Cholera Camp
We’ve got the cholerer in camp it’s worse than forty fights; We’re dyin’ in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; It’s before us, an’ be’ind us, an’ we cannot get away, An’ the doctor’s
Poor Honest Men
Your jar of Virginny Will cost you a guinea, Which you reckon too much by five shillings or ten; But light your churchwarden And judge it according, When I’ve told you the troubles of
Two Kopjes
(Made Yeomanry towards End of Boer War) Only two African kopjes, Only the cart-tracks that wind Empty and open between ’em, Only the Transvaal behind; Only an Aldershot column Marching to conquer the land.
The Quesion
Brethren, how shall it fare with me When the war is laid aside, If it be proven that I am he For whom a world has died? If it be proven that all my
Fuzzy-Wuzzy
(Soudan Expeditionary Force) We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas, An’ some of ’em was brave an’ some was not: The Paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese; But the Fuzzy was the finest
Tomlinson
Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square, And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried
The Widow at Windsor
‘Ave you ‘eard o’ the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on ‘er ‘ead? She ‘as ships on the foam she ‘as millions at ‘ome, An’ she pays us poor beggars in
My New-Cut Ashler
My New-Cut ashlar takes the light Where crimson-blank the windows flare. By my own work before the night, Great Overseer, I make my prayer. If there be good in that I wrought Thy Hand
Delilah
We have another viceroy now, those days are dead and done Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne. Delilah Aberyswith was a lady not too young With a perfect taste in dresses and a
The Only Son
She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. The fresh flame comforted the hut
The Young British Soldier
When the ‘arf-made recruity goes out to the East ‘E acts like a babe an’ ‘e drinks like a beast, An’ ‘e wonders because ‘e is frequent deceased Ere ‘e’s fit for to serve
The Ladies
I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it; I’ve rouged an’ I’ve ranged in my time; I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ seethearts, An’ four o’ the lot was prime. One was an ‘arf-caste widow,
The Jacket
Through the Plagues of Egyp’ we was chasin’ Arabi, Gettin’ down an’ shovin’ in the sun; An’ you might ‘ave called us dirty, an’ you might ha’ called us dry, An’ you might ‘ave