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There was Babu Chuckerbutty,

An' Amir Singh the Sikh,
An’ Castro from the fittin'-sheds,

The Roman Catholick!

We 'adn't good regalia,

An' our Lodge was old an' bare, But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,

An' we kep''em to a hair;
An' lookin' on it backwards

It often strikes me thus,
There ain't such things as infidels,

Excep', per’aps, it's us.

For monthly, after Labour,

We'd all sit down and smoke (We dursn't give no banquits,

Lest a Brother's caste were broke), An' man on man got talkin'

Religion an' the rest,
An' every man comparini

Of the God 'e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin',

An' not a Brother stirred

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Full oft on Guv’ment service

This rovin' foot ’ath pressed, An' bore fraternal greetin's

To the Lodges east an' west, Accordin' as commanded

From Kohat to Singapore, But I wish that I might see them

In my Mother Lodge once more!

I wish that I might see them,

My Brethren black an' brown, With the trichies smellin' pleasant

An' the hog-darn* passin' down; An' the old khansamah | snorin’

On the bottle-khana | floor, Like a Master in good standing

With my Mother Lodge once more!

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Outside" Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!
InsideBrother,an' it doesn't do no 'arm.
We met upon the Level anwe parted on the

Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out

there!

“FOLLOW ME 'OME.”

THERE was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,

Nor any o'the Guns I knew;
An' because it was so, why, o course 'e went an’

died,
Which is just what the best men do.

So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me!
Oh, ark to the big drum callin',

Follow mefollow me 'ome!

'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long,

She paws the 'ole night through,
An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is

step,
Which is just what a beast would do.

'Is girl she goes with a bombardier
Before 'er month is through;

An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the

beggar hooked,
Which is just what a girl would do.

We fought 'bout a dog-last week it were

No more than a round or two;
But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't

now,
Which is just what a man can't do.

'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend,

An' l've 'ad to find one new;
But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar

back,
Which it's just too late to do.

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Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best

men go.

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turnin' slow.

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