Thus, the artless songs I sing
Do not deal with anything
New or never said before.
As it was in the beginning
Is to-day official sinning,

And shall be for evermore!

ARMY HEADQUARTERS

Old is the song that I sing

Old as my unpaid bills

Old as the chicken that kitmutgars1 bring

Men at dak-bungalows-old as the Hills.

AHASUERUS JENKINS of the "Operatic Own,"
Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-Santley tone.
His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle queer.
He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh! he had an ear.

He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times a day;
He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way;
His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders,
But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders.

He took two months at Simla when the year was at the spring,

And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.

He warbled like a bul-bul but particularly at
Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and fat.

She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a
Dept.

Where Cornelia Agrippina's human singing-birds were kept From April to October on a plump retaining-fee,

Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.

Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used to play; He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was false as they; So when the winds of April turned the budding roses brown, Cornelia told her husband:-"Tom, you mustn't send him down."

They haled him from his regiment, which didn't much regret him;

They found for him an office-stool, and on that stool they set him

To play with maps and catalogues three idle hours a day, And draw his plump retaining-fee-which means his double

pay.

Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee-cups are brought,
Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte;

And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath waxen great,
And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a Power in the State!

STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK

This ditty is a string of lies.

But-how the deuce did Gubbins rise?

POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E.,
Stands at the top of the tree;

And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led
To the hoisting of Potiphar G.

Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.,

Is seven years junior to Me;

Each bridge that he makes either buckles or breaks,
And his work is as rough as he.

Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.,

Is coarse as a chimpanzee;

And I can't understand why you gave him your hand,
Lovely Mehitabel Lee.

Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.,

Is dear to the Powers that Be;

For They bow and They smile in an affable style,
Which is seldom accorded to Me.

Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.,

Is certain as certain can be

Of a highly paid post which is claimed by a host
Of seniors-including Me.

Careless and lazy is he,
Greatly inferior to Me.

What is the spell that you manage so well,
Commonplace Potiphar G.?

Lovely Mehitabel Lee,
Let me inquire of thee,

Should I have riz to what Potiphar is,
Hadst thou been mated to Me?

DELILAH

We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead and done
Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne.

DELILAH ABERYSWITH was a lady-not too youngWith a perfect taste in dresses and a badly-bitted tongue,

With a thirst for information, and a greater thirst for praise, And a little house in Simla in the Prehistoric Days.

By reason of her marriage to a gentleman in power,
Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of the hour;
And many little secrets, of the half-official kind,
Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore them all in mind.

She patronised extensively a man, Ulysses Gunne,
Whose mode of earning money was a low and shameful one.
He wrote for certain papers which, as everybody knows,
Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring off the crows.

He praised her "queenly beauty" first; and. later on, he hinted

At the "vastness of her intellect" with compliment unstinted. He went with her a-riding, and his love for her was such That he lent her all his horses and-she galled them very

much.

One day, THEY brewed a secret of a fine financial sort; It related to Appointments, to a Man and a Report. 'Twas almost worth the keeping,-only seven people knew it

And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and patiently ensue it.

It was a Viceroy's Secret, but-perhaps the wine was red— Perhaps an Aged Councillor had lost his aged headPerhaps Delilah's eyes were bright-Delilah's whispers

sweet

The Aged Member told her what 'twere treason to repeat.

Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of love and flowers; Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for several hours; Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah helped him danceUlysses let the waltzes go, and waited for his chance.

The summer sun was setting, and the summer air was still,
The couple went a-walking in the shade of Summer Hill.
The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis-green and gold,
Ulysses pleaded softly, and . . . that bad Delilah told!

Next morn, a startled Empire learnt the all-important news;
Next week, the Aged Councillor was shaking in his shoes.
Next month, I met Delilah and she did not show the least
Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a “beast.”

We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead and done

Of, Delilah Aberyswith and most mean Ulysses Gunne!

Lusted for a C. S. I.2-so began to sanitate.

Built a Gaol and Hospital-nearly built a City drainTill his faithful subjects all thought their ruler was insane.

Strange departures made he then-yea, Departments stranger still:

Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah with a will,
Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a future fine
For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly Western line.

'Champagne.

"The order of the Star of India.