BILL 'AWKINS

S anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?'

'Now 'ow in the devil would I know?'

"E's taken my girl out walkin',

An' I've got to tell 'im so

Gawd-bless-'im!

I've got to tell 'im so.'

'D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?'

'Now what in the devil would I care?'

"'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey,

With a pound of grease in 'is 'air—

Gawd-bless-'im!

An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air.'

'An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins,
Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?'

'I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle,
An' bung up 'is both eyes, too-
Gawd-bless-'im!

An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!'

'Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! Now what in the devil will you say?'

'It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, So I'll pass 'im the time o' day

Gawd-bless-'im!

I'll pass 'im the time o' day!'

T

THE MOTHER-LODGE

HERE was Rundle, Station Master,
An' Beazeley of the Rail,

An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,

An' Donkin' o' the Jail;

An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent,

Our Master twice was 'e,

With 'im that kept the Europe-shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside

Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!'

Inside 'Brother,' an' it doesn't do no 'arm.

We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there!

We'd Bola Nath, Accountant,

An' Saul the Aden Jew,

An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman

Of the Survey Office too;
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;

THE MOTHER-LODGE

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 comparin'

Of the God 'e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin',
An' not a Brother stirred
Till mornin' waked the parrots
An' that dam' brain-fever-bird;
We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious,
An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed,
With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva
Changin' pickets in our 'ead.

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-darn1 passin' down;
An' the old khansamah2 snorin'
On the bottle-khana3 floor,
Like a Master in good standing

With my Mother Lodge once more.

Outside Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!'
Inside-'Brother,' an' it doesn't do no 'arm.

We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out

there!

'Cigar-lighter.

2Butler.

'Pantry.

'FOLLOW ME 'OME'

HERE was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
Nor any o' the Guns I knew;

T"

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 me-follow 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.