I

TO T. A.

HAVE made for you a song,

And it may be right or wrong,

But only you can tell me if it's true;

I have tried for to explain

Both your pleasure and your pain, And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you.

O there'll surely come a day
When they'll give you all your pay,
And treat you as a Christian ought to do;
So, until that day comes round,

Heaven keep you safe and sound,

And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!

R. K.

DANNY DEEVER

HAT are the bugles blowin' for?' said Files-
on-Parade.

To turn you out, to turn you out,' the Colour-
Sergeant said.

'What makes you look so white, so white?' said Fileson-Parade.

'I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch,' the ColourSergeant said.

For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,

The regiment's in 'ollow square-they're hangin' him to-day;

They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,

An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

'What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?' said Fileson-Parade.

'It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold,' the Colour-Sergeant said.

'What makes that front-rank man fall down?' says Files-on-Parade.

'A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun,' the Colour-Sergeant said.

They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round,

They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;

An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound

O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'!

"Is cot was right-'and cot to mine,' said Files-on-Parade.

"'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night,' the Colour-Sergeant

said.

'I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times,' said Files-on

Parade.

"E's drinkin' bitter beer alone,' the Colour-Sergeant said.

They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark

'im to 'is place,

For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'-you must look 'im in the face;

Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace,

While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

'What's that so black agin' the sun?' said Files-onParade.

'It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life,' the Colour-Sergeant said.

'What's that that whimpers over 'ead?' said Files-onParade.

'It's Danny's soul that's passin' now,' the Colour

Sergeant said.

DANNY DEEVER

For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play,

The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin'

us away;

Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day,

After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

I

TOMMY

WENT into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,

The publican 'e up an' sez, 'We serve no red-coats here.'

The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to

die,

I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, go away';

But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play,

The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,

O it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,

They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for

me;

They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, wait outside';

But it's 'Special train for Atkins' when the trooper's on the tide,