(Same batch of prisoners, 'airy an' still,
Watchin' their comrades bolt over the 'ill
From the section, etc.)

Same chilly glare in the eye of the sun

As 'e gets up displeasured to see what was done
By the section, etc.

Same splash o' pink on the stoep or the kraal,
An' the same quiet face which 'as finished with all
In the section, the pompom, an' six 'undred men.

Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry

(Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again!) 'Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply?

(A section, a pompom, an' six 'undred men.)

THE PARTING OF THE COLUMNS

.. On the ―th instant a mixed detachment of colonials left for Cape Town, there to rejoin their respective homewardbound contingents, after fifteen months' service in the field. They were escorted to the station by the regular troops in garrison and the bulk of Colonel's column, which has just come in to refit, preparatory to further operations. The leave-taking was of the most cordial character, the men cheering each other continuously. - Any Newspaper, during the South African War.

WE

E 'VE rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations come
to hand,

Together for a year and more around this stinkin' land:
Now you are goin' home again, but we must see it through.
We need n't tell we liked you well. Good-bye- good luck to
you!

You 'ad no special call to come, and so you doubled out,
And learned us how to camp and cook an' steal a horse and

scout:

Whatever game we fancied most, you joyful played it too,

And rather better on the whole. Good-bye-good luck to you!

There is n't much we 'ave n't shared, since Kruger cut and run, The same old work, the same old skoff,1 the same old dust and

sun;

The same old chance that laid us out, or winked an' let us through;

The same old Life, the same old Death. Good-bye- good luck to you!

Our blood 'as truly mixed with yours all down the Red Cross

train,

We've bit the same thermometer in Bloeming-typhoidtein.
We've 'ad the same old temp❜rature

the same relapses too, The same old saw-backed fever-chart. Good-bye-good luck

to you!

But 't was n't merely this an' that (which all the world may

know),

"T was how you talked an' looked at things which made us like you so.

All independent, queer an' odd, but most amazin' new,

My word! you shook us up to rights. Good-bye- good luck to you!

Think o' the stories round the fire, the tales along the trek-
O' Calgary an' Wellin❜ton, an' Sydney and Quebec;

Of mine an' farm, an' ranch an' run, an' moose an' cariboo,
An' parrots peckin' lambs to death! Good-bye - good luck to

you!

1 Food.

We've seen your 'ome by word o' mouth, we've watched your

rivers shine,

We've 'eard your bloomin' forests blow of eucalip' and pine; Your young, gay countries north an' south, we feel we own 'em too,

For they was made by rank an' file. Good-bye-good luck to you!

We'll never read the papers now without inquirin' first

For word from all those friendly dorps where you was born an' nursed.

Why, Dawson, Galle, an' Montreal - Port Darwin - Timaru, They're only just across the road! Good-bye- good luck to you!

Good-bye! -So-long! Don't lose yourselves - nor us, nor all kind friends,

But tell the girls your side the drift we 're comin' - when it ends! Good-bye, you bloomin' Atlases! You've taught us somethin'

new:

The world's no bigger than a kraal. Good-bye-good luck to you!

TWO KOPJES

(Made Yeomanry towards the End of the 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 . .

Only a sudden and solemn

Visit, unarmed, to the Rand.

Then scorn not the African kopje,
The kopje that smiles in the heat,
The wholly unoccupied kopje,

The home of Cornelius and Piet.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,
A kopje is always a kopje,

And a Boojer is always a Boer!

Only two African kopjes,

Only the vultures above,

Only baboons - at the bottom,
Only some buck on the move;

Only a Kensington draper

Only pretending to scout . .
Only bad news for the paper,
Only another knock-out.

Then mock not the African kopje,
And rub not your flank on its side,
The silent and simmering kopje,
The kopje beloved by the guide.
You can never be, etc.

Only two African kopjes,

Only the dust of their wheels,

Only a bolted commando,

Only our guns at their heels.

Only a little barb-wire,

Only a natural fort,

Only "by sections retire,"

Only "regret to report!"

Then mock not the African kopje,
Especially when it is twins,

One sharp and one table-topped kopje,
For that's where the trouble begins.
You never can be, etc.

Then mock not the African kopje,
But take off your hat to the same,
The patient, impartial old kopje,

The kopje that taught us the game!
For all that we knew in the Columns,
And all they've forgot on the Staff,
We learned at the Fight o' Two Kopjes,
Which lasted two years an' a half.

O mock not the African kopje,

Not even when peace has been signed –
The kopje that is n't a kopje-

The kopje that copies its kind.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,

That a kopje is always a kopje,
And a Boojer is always a Boer!

THE INSTRUCTOR

(Non-commissioned Officers of the Line) At times when under cover I ’ave said, To keep my spirits up an' raise a laugh, 'Earin 'im pass so busy over-'ead Old Nickel-Neck, 'oo is n't on the Staff "There's one above is greater than us all."