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 End of Boer 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!

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.

Only two African kopjes

Baited the same as before

Only we've had it so often,

Only we're taking no more

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 isn'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)

T TIMES when under cover I 'ave said,

AT

To keep my spirits up an' raise a laugh, 'Earin 'im pass so busy over-'eadOld. Nickel-Neck, 'oo is n't on the Staff"There's one above is greater than us all.”

'Leading horseman of the enemy.

Before 'im I 'ave seen my Colonel fall,
An' watched 'im write my Captain's epitaph,
So that a long way off it could be read-
He 'as the knack o' makin' men feel small-
Old Whistle Tip, 'oo is n't on the Staff.

There is no sense in fleein' (I 'ave fled),
Better go on an' do the belly-crawl,
An' 'ope 'e 'll 'it some other man instead
Of you 'e seems to 'unt so speshual-
Fitzy van Spitz, 'oo is n't on the Staff.

An' thus in mem'ry's cinematograph,
Now that the show is over, I recall

The peevish voice an' 'oary mushroom 'ead
Of 'im we owned was greater than us all,
'Oo give instruction to the quick an' the dead-
The Shudderin' Beggar-not upon the Staff!

BOOTS

(Infantry Columns)

Africa!

WE'RE foot-slog-slog-slog-sloggin' over
Foot-foot-foot-foot-sloggin' over Africa-
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Seven-six-eleven-five-nine-an'-twenty mile to-day-
Four-eleven-seventeen-thirty-two the day before-
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Don't-don't-don't-don't-look at what's in front of you.
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again);
Men-men-men-men-men go mad with watchin' 'em,
An' there's no discharge in the war!

I

Try-try-try-try-to think o' something different—
Oh-my-God-keep-me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!

Count-count-count-count-the bullets in the bandoliers.
If-your-eyes-drop-they will get atop o' you
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up and down again)—
There's no discharge in the war!

We-can-stick-out-'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
But-not-not-not-not the chronic sight of 'em-
Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!

'Tain't-so-bad-by-day because o' company,
But-night-brings-long-strings-o' forty thousand mil-

lion

Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again. There's no discharge in the war!

I-'ave-marched-six-weeks in 'Ell an' certify
It-is-not-fire-devils-dark or anything,

But boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down

again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

THE MARRIED MAN

(Reservist of the Line)

THE bachelor 'e fights for one
As joyful as can be;

But the married man don't call it fun,
Because 'e fights for three-