'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! An' now it's "Oo goes backward ?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on ?” An' now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone; An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till 'e feels 'em take the bit; The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, But the backbone of the Army is the noncommissioned man! Keep away from dirtiness—keep away from mess. Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY. SEZ the Junior Orderly Sergeant You 'elp 'im all you can. For the wine was old and the night is cold, An' the best we may go wrong, So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, You pass the word along." Then it was "Rounds! What rounds?" at two of a frosty night, 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. An' it's "Pass! All's well!" Oh, ain't 'e rockin' tight! 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-bye. The moon was white on the barricks, The road was white an' wide, An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, An' the ten-foot ditch beside. An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, So I didn't see nothin' wrong. Though it was "Rounds! What rounds?" O corporal, 'old 'im up! 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. An' it's "Pass! All's well!" Ho, shun the foamin' cup! 'E'll need, etc. 'Twas after four in the mornin'; We 'ad to stop the fun, An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, With 'is belt an' stock undone; But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, An' a first-class job we made, When we saved 'im smart as a bombardier For six o'clock parade. It'ad been "Rounds! What rounds?" Oh, shove 'im straight again! 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. |