What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you (Mary, pity women !) knew it all before you? Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow (Mary, pity women !), for we sail to-morrow! "FOR TO ADMIRE" THE Injian Ocean sets an' smiles So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; Excep' the jiggle from the screw. The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!" For to admire an' for to see, For to be'old this world so wide It never done no good to me, But I can't drop it if I tried! I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, The orficers an' lydies walk. An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, The things that was which I 'ave seen, An' sometimes wonders if they're true; 'I'm looking out. For they was odd-most awful odd But all the same now they are o'er, There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, An' if I wait I'll see some more. Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, Nor never grutched the price I paid, Be'old a cloud upon the beam, With six years' service to 'is name. My girl she said, "Oh, stay with me!" They must 'ave gone with all the rest— With all the rest which I 'ave seen An' found an' known an' met along. I cannot say the things I feel, And so I sing my evenin' song: For to admire an' for to see, For to be'old this world so wide It never done no good to me, 1899 (Boer War) "TOMMY" you was when it began, But now that it is o'er You shall be called The Service Man Batt'ry, brigade, flank, centre, van, From 'Alifax to 'Industan, From York to Singapore- THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR WHEN you've shouted "Rule Britannia," when you've sung "God save the Queen," When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth, Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine For a gentleman in kharki ordered South? He's an absent-minded beggar, and his weaknesses are greatBut we and Paul must take him as we find him— He is out on active service, wiping something off a slate— And he's left a lot of little things behind him! Duke's son-cook's son-son of a hundred kings— (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!) Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after their things?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay-pay-pay! There are girls he married secret, asking no permission to, For he knew he wouldn't get it if he did. There is gas and coals and vittles, and the house-rent falling due, And it's more than rather likely there's a kid. There are girls he walked with casual. They'll be sorry now he's gone, For an absent-minded beggar they will find him, But it ain't the time for sermons with the winter coming on. We must help the girl that Tommy's left behind him! Cook's son-duke's son-son of a belted earl Son of a Lambeth publican-it's all the same to-day! Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after the girl?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay-pay-pay! There are families by thousands, far too proud to beg or speak, And they'll put their sticks and bedding up the spout, And they'll live on half o' nothing, paid 'em punctual once a week 'Cause the man that earns the wage is ordered out. He's an absent-minded beggar, but he heard his country call, And his reg'ment didn't need to send to find him! He chucked his job and joined it—so the job before us all Mews or palace or paper-shop, there's someone gone away! Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after the room?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay-pay-pay! Let us manage so as, later, we can look him in the face, That, while he saved the Empire, his employer saved his place He's an absent-minded beggar and he may forget it all, That we sent 'em to the workhouse while their daddy hammered Paul, So we'll help the homes that Tommy left behind him! Cook's home-Duke's home-home of a millionaire, (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!) Each of 'em doing his country's work (and what have you got to spare?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay-pay-pay! CHANT-PAGAN (English Irregular discharged) E THAT 'ave been what I've been- With awful old England again, Me that 'ave been what I've been? Me that 'ave watched 'arf a world 'Eave up all shiny with dew, Kopje on kop to the sun, An' as soon as the mist let 'em through Our 'elios winkin' like fun |