We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys There was a row in Silver Street-it isn't over yet, For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: There was a row in Silver Street-begod, I wonder why! But it was:-" Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!" An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!" O buckle an' tongue Was the song that we sung From Harrison's down to the Park! THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER WHEN the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . . First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your buttsAn' it's bad for the young British soldier. Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . . When the cholera comes -as it will past a doubt— But the worst o' your foes is the sun over❜ead: If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, That it's beer for the young British soldier. Now, if you must marry, take care she is old- Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath To shoot when you catch 'em-you'll swing, on my oath! Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck And march to your front like a soldier. Front, front, front like a soldier. When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . . If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier. Wait, wait, wait like a soldier When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. Go, go, go like a soldier, Go, go, go like a soldier, So-oldier of the Queen! MANDALAY By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple bells they say: "Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!" Come you back to Mandalay, Where the old Flotilla lay: Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Ran goon to Mandalay? On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat-jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: |