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SAPPERS

 
  When the Waters were dried an’ the Earth did appear,
   (“It’s all one,” says the Sapper),
  The Lord He created the Engineer,
   Her Majesty’s Royal Engineer,
   With the rank and pay of a Sapper!
 
 
  When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon,
  ‘Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon
   To the plans of Her Majesty’s, etc.
 
 
  But after fatigue in the wet an’ the sun,
  Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn’t ha’ done
   If he’d trained with, etc.
 
 
  When the Tower o’ Babel had mixed up men’s bat,
  Some clever civilian was managing that,
   An’ none of, etc.
 
 
  When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill,
  Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still,
   For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc.
 
 
  When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw,
  They were learnin’ the regular work of our Corps,
   The work of, etc.
 
 
  For ever since then, if a war they would wage,
  Behold us a-shinin’ on history’s page —
   First page for, etc.
 
 
  We lay down their sidings an’ help ‘em entrain,
  An’ we sweep up their mess through the bloomin’ campaign,
   In the style of, etc.
 
 
  They send us in front with a fuse an’ a mine
  To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line,
   But bent by, etc.
 
 
  They send us behind with a pick an’ a spade,
  To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade
   Which has asked for, etc.
 
 
  We work under escort in trousers and shirt,
  An’ the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt,
   Annoying, etc.
 
 
  We blast out the rock an’ we shovel the mud,
  We make ‘em good roads an’ – they roll down the khud,
   Reporting, etc.
 
 
  We make ‘em their bridges, their wells, an’ their huts,
  An’ the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts,
   An’ it’s blamed on, etc.
 
 
  An’ when we return, an’ from war we would cease,
  They grudge us adornin’ the billets of peace,
   Which are kept for, etc.
 
 
  We build ‘em nice barracks – they swear they are bad,
  That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad,
   Insultin’, etc.
 
 
  They haven’t no manners nor gratitude too,
  For the more that we help ‘em, the less will they do,
   But mock at, etc.
 
 
  Now the Line’s but a man with a gun in his hand,
  An’ Cavalry’s only what horses can stand,
   When helped by, etc.
 
 
  Artillery moves by the leave o’ the ground,
  But we are the men that do something all round,
   For we are, etc.
 
 
  I have stated it plain, an’ my argument’s thus
   (“It’s all one,” says the Sapper),
  There’s only one Corps which is perfect – that’s us;
   An’ they call us Her Majesty’s Engineers,
   Her Majesty’s Royal Engineers,
   With the rank and pay of a Sapper!
 

THAT DAY

 
  It got beyond all orders an’ it got beyond all ‘ope;
   It got to shammin’ wounded an’ retirin’ from the ‘alt.
  ‘Ole companies was lookin’ for the nearest road to slope;
   It were just a bloomin’ knock-out – an’ our fault!
 
 
       Now there ain’t no chorus ‘ere to give,
        Nor there ain’t no band to play;
       An’ I wish I was dead ‘fore I done what I did,
        Or seen what I seed that day!
 
 
  We was sick o’ bein’ punished, an’ we let ‘em know it, too;
   An’ a company-commander up an’ ‘it us with a sword,
  An’ some one shouted “‘Ook it!” an’ it come to sove-ki-poo,
   An’ we chucked our rifles from us – O my Gawd!
 
 
  There was thirty dead an’ wounded on the ground we wouldn’t keep —
   No, there wasn’t more than twenty when the front begun to go;
  But, Christ! along the line o’ flight they cut us up like sheep,
   An’ that was all we gained by doin’ so.
 
 
  I ‘eard the knives be’ind me, but I dursn’t face my man,
   Nor I don’t know where I went to, ‘cause I didn’t ‘alt to see,
  Till I ‘eard a beggar squealin’ out for quarter as ‘e ran,
   An’ I thought I knew the voice an’ – it was me!
 
 
  We was ‘idin’ under bedsteads more than ‘arf a march away;
   We was lyin’ up like rabbits all about the countryside;
  An’ the major cursed ‘is Maker ‘cause ‘e lived to see that day,
   An’ the colonel broke ‘is sword acrost, an’ cried.
 
 
  We was rotten ‘fore we started – we was never disciplined;
   We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed;
  Yes, every little drummer ‘ad ‘is rights an’ wrongs to mind,
   So we had to pay for teachin’ – an’ we paid!
 
 
  The papers ‘id it ‘andsome, but you know the Army knows;
   We was put to groomin’ camels till the regiments withdrew,
  An’ they gave us each a medal for subduin’ England’s foes,
   An’ I ‘ope you like my song – because it’s true!
 
 
       An’ there ain’t no chorus ‘ere to give,
        Nor there ain’t no band to play;
       But I wish I was dead ‘fore I done what I did,
        Or seen what I seed that day!
 

“THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN”

 
  A Song of Instruction
  The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time —
   So was them that fought at Waterloo!
  All the ‘ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand,
   They was once dam’ sweeps like you!
 
 
       Then do not be discouraged, ‘Eaven is your ‘elper,
        We’ll learn you not to forget;
       An’ you mustn’t swear an’ curse, or you’ll only catch it worse,
        For we’ll make you soldiers yet!
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they ‘ad stocks beneath their chins,
   Six inch ‘igh an’ more;
  But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied
   To clean the cook-’ouse floor.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs
   Served to ‘em by name of ‘and-grenades;
  But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an’-by)
   When they clubbed their field-parades.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they ‘ad buttons up an’ down,
   Two-an’-twenty dozen of ‘em told;
  But they didn’t grouse an’ shirk at an hour’s extry work,
   They kept ‘em bright as gold.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons,
   Also, they was drilled by ‘alberdiers;
  I don’t know what they were, but the sergeants took good care
   They washed be’ind their ears.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they ‘ad ever cash in ‘and
   Which they did not bank nor save,
  But spent it gay an’ free on their betters – such as me —
   For the good advice I gave.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they was civil – yuss, they was —
   Never didn’t talk o’ rights an’ wrongs,
  But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it – so!) —
   For interrupting songs.
 
 
  The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things
   Which I don’t remember clear;
  But that’s the reason why, now the six-year men are dry,
   The rooks will stand the beer!
 
 
       Then do not be discouraged, ‘Eaven is your ‘elper,
        We’ll learn you not to forget;
       An’ you mustn’t swear an’ curse, or you’ll only catch it worse,
        For we’ll make you soldiers yet!
 
 
       Soldiers yet, if you’ve got it in you —
        All for the sake of the Core;
       Soldiers yet, if we ‘ave to skin you —
        Run an’ get the beer, Johnny Raw – Johnny Raw!
        Ho! run an’ get the beer, Johnny Raw!
 

CHOLERA CAMP

 
  We’ve got the cholerer in camp – it’s worse than forty fights;
   We’re dyin’ in the wilderness the same as Isrulites;
  It’s before us, an’ be’ind us, an’ we cannot get away,
   An’ the doctor’s just reported we’ve ten more to-day!
 
 
       Oh, strike your camp an’ go, the Bugle’s callin’,
          The Rains are fallin’ —
       The dead are bushed an’ stoned to keep ‘em safe below;
       The Band’s a-doin’ all she knows to cheer us;
       The Chaplain’s gone and prayed to Gawd to ‘ear us —
          To ‘ear us —
       O Lord, for it’s a-killin’ of us so!
 
 
  Since August, when it started, it’s been stickin’ to our tail,
  Though they’ve ‘ad us out by marches an’ they’ve ‘ad us back by rail;
  But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away;
  An’ the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day.
 
 
  There ain’t no fun in women nor there ain’t no bite to drink;
  It’s much too wet for shootin’, we can only march and think;
  An’ at evenin’, down the nullahs, we can ‘ear the jackals say,
  “Get up, you rotten beggars, you’ve ten more to-day!”
 
 
  ‘Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o’ doin’ things —
  Lieutenants takin’ companies an’ captains takin’ wings,
  An’ Lances actin’ Sergeants – eight file to obey —
  For we’ve lots o’ quick promotion on ten deaths a day!
 
 
  Our Colonel’s white an’ twitterly – ‘e gets no sleep nor food,
  But mucks about in ‘orspital where nothing does no good.
  ‘E sends us ‘eaps o’ comforts, all bought from ‘is pay —
  But there aren’t much comfort ‘andy on ten deaths a day.
 
 
  Our Chaplain’s got a banjo, an’ a skinny mule ‘e rides,
  An’ the stuff ‘e says an’ sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides!
  With ‘is black coat-tails a-bobbin’ to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay!
  ‘E’s the proper kind o’ padre for ten deaths a day.
 
 
  An’ Father Victor ‘elps ‘im with our Roman Catholicks —
  He knows an ‘eap of Irish songs an’ rummy conjurin’ tricks;
  An’ the two they works together when it comes to play or pray;
  So we keep the ball a-rollin’ on ten deaths a day.
 
 
  We’ve got the cholerer in camp – we’ve got it ‘ot an’ sweet;
  It ain’t no Christmas dinner, but it’s ‘elped an’ we must eat.
  We’ve gone beyond the funkin’, ‘cause we’ve found it doesn’t pay,
  An’ we’re rockin’ round the Districk on ten deaths a day!
 
 
       Then strike your camp an’ go, the Rains are fallin’,
          The Bugle’s callin’!
       The dead are bushed an’ stoned to keep ‘em safe below!
       An’ them that do not like it they can lump it,
       An’ them that cannot stand it they can jump it;
       We’ve got to die somewhere – some way – some’ow —
       We might as well begin to do it now!
       Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow,
       Knock out the pegs an’ ‘old the corners – so!
       Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an’ stow!
       Oh, strike – oh, strike your camp an’ go!
          (Gawd ‘elp us!)
 

THE LADIES

 
  I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it;
   I’ve rogued an’ I’ve ranged in my time;
  I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ sweet’earts,
   An’ four o’ the lot was prime.
  One was an ‘arf-caste widow,
   One was a woman at Prome,
  One was the wife of a jemadar-sais,                         [Head-groom.]
   An’ one is a girl at ‘ome.
 
 
       Now I aren’t no ‘and with the ladies,
        For, takin’ ‘em all along,
       You never can say till you’ve tried ‘em,
        An’ then you are like to be wrong.
       There’s times when you’ll think that you mightn’t,
        There’s times when you’ll know that you might;
       But the things you will learn from the Yellow an’ Brown,
        They’ll ‘elp you a lot with the White!
 
 
  I was a young un at ‘Oogli,
   Shy as a girl to begin;
  Aggie de Castrer she made me,
   An’ Aggie was clever as sin;
  Older than me, but my first un —
   More like a mother she were —
  Showed me the way to promotion an’ pay,
   An’ I learned about women from ‘er!
 
 
  Then I was ordered to Burma,
   Actin’ in charge o’ Bazar,
  An’ I got me a tiddy live ‘eathen
   Through buyin’ supplies off ‘er pa.
  Funny an’ yellow an’ faithful —
   Doll in a teacup she were,
  But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,
   An’ I learned about women from ‘er!
 
 
  Then we was shifted to Neemuch
   (Or I might ha’ been keepin’ ‘er now),
  An’ I took with a shiny she-devil,
   The wife of a nigger at Mhow;
  ‘Taught me the gipsy-folks’ bolee;                               [Slang.]
   Kind o’ volcano she were,
  For she knifed me one night ‘cause I wished she was white,
   And I learned about women from ‘er!
 
 
  Then I come ‘ome in the trooper,
   ‘Long of a kid o’ sixteen —
  Girl from a convent at Meerut,
   The straightest I ever ‘ave seen.
  Love at first sight was ‘er trouble,
   She didn’t know what it were;
  An’ I wouldn’t do such, ‘cause I liked ‘er too much,
   But – I learned about women from ‘er!
 
 
  I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it,
   An’ now I must pay for my fun,
  For the more you ‘ave known o’ the others
   The less will you settle to one;
  An’ the end of it’s sittin’ and thinkin’,
   An’ dreamin’ Hell-fires to see;
  So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not),
   An’ learn about women from me!
 
 
       What did the Colonel’s Lady think?
        Nobody never knew.
       Somebody asked the Sergeant’s wife,
        An’’ she told ‘em true!
       When you get to a man in the case,
        They’re like as a row of pins —
       For the Colonel’s Lady an’ Judy O’Grady
        Are sisters under their skins!
 

BILL ‘AWKINS

 
   “‘As anybody seen Bill ‘Awkins?”
       “Now ‘ow in the devil would I know?”
   “‘E’s taken my girl out walkin’,
      An’ I’ve got to tell ‘im so —
         Gawd – bless – ‘im!
      I’ve got to tell ‘im so.”
 
 
   “D’yer know what ‘e’s like, Bill ‘Awkins?”
       “Now what in the devil would I care?”
   “‘E’s the livin’, breathin’ image of an organ-grinder’s monkey,
      With a pound of grease in ‘is ‘air —
         Gawd – bless – ‘im!
      An’ a pound o’ grease in ‘is ‘air.”
 
 
   “An’ s’pose you met Bill ‘Awkins,
      Now what in the devil ‘ud ye do?”
   “I’d open ‘is cheek to ‘is chin-strap buckle,
      An’ bung up ‘is both eyes, too —
         Gawd – bless – ‘im!
      An’ bung up ‘is both eyes, too!”
 
 
   “Look ‘ere, where ‘e comes, Bill ‘Awkins!
      Now what in the devil will you say?”
   “It isn’t fit an’ proper to be fightin’ on a Sunday,
      So I’ll pass ‘im the time o’ day —
         Gawd – bless – ‘im!
      I’ll pass ‘im the time o’ day!”
 

THE MOTHER-LODGE

 
  There was Rundle, Station Master,
   An’ Beazeley of the Rail,
  An’ ‘Ackman, Commissariat,
   An’ Donkin’ o’ the Jail;
  An’ Blake, Conductor-Sargent,
   Our Master twice was ‘e,
  With ‘im that kept the Europe-shop,
   Old Framjee Eduljee.
 
 
       Outside – “Sergeant!  Sir!  Salute!  Salaam!”
        Inside – “Brother”, an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm.
       We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square,
       An’ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
 
 
  We’d Bola Nath, Accountant,
   An’ Saul the Aden Jew,
  An’ Din Mohammed, draughtsman
   Of the Survey Office too;
  There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
   An’ Amir Singh the Sikh,
  An’ Castro from the fittin’-sheds,
   The Roman Catholick!
 
 
  We ‘adn’t good regalia,
   An’ our Lodge was old an’ bare,
  But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
   An’ we kep’ ‘em to a hair;
  An’ lookin’ on it backwards
   It often strikes me thus,
  There ain’t such things as infidels,
   Excep’, per’aps, it’s us.
 
 
  For monthly, after Labour,
   We’d all sit down and smoke
  (We dursn’t give no banquits,
   Lest a Brother’s caste were broke),
  An’ man on man got talkin’
   Religion an’ the rest,
  An’ every man comparin’
   Of the God ‘e knew the best.
 
 
  So man on man got talkin’,
   An’ not a Brother stirred
  Till mornin’ waked the parrots
   An’ that dam’ brain-fever-bird;
  We’d say ‘twas ‘ighly curious,
   An’ we’d all ride ‘ome to bed,
  With Mo’ammed, God, an’ Shiva
   Changin’ pickets in our ‘ead.
 
 
  Full oft on Guv’ment service
   This rovin’ foot ‘ath pressed,
  An’ bore fraternal greetin’s
   To the Lodges east an’ west,
  Accordin’ as commanded
   From Kohat to Singapore,
  But I wish that I might see them
   In my Mother-Lodge once more!
 
 
  I wish that I might see them,
   My Brethren black an’ brown,
  With the trichies smellin’ pleasant
   An’ the hog-darn passin’ down;                          [Cigar-lighter.]
  An’ the old khansamah snorin’                                     [Butler.]
   On the bottle-khana floor,                                       [Pantry.]
  Like a Master in good standing
   With my Mother-Lodge once more!
 
 
       Outside – “Sergeant!  Sir!  Salute!  Salaam!”
        Inside – “Brother”, an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm.
       We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square,
       An’ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
 

“FOLLOW ME ‘OME”

 
     There was no one like ‘im, ‘Orse or Foot,
      Nor any o’ the Guns I knew;
  An’ because it was so, why, o’ course ‘e went an’ died,
      Which is just what the best men do.
 
 
       So it’s knock out your pipes an’ follow me!
       An’ it’s finish up your swipes an’ follow me!
        Oh, ‘ark to the big drum callin’,
         Follow me – follow me ‘ome!
 
 
     ‘Is mare she neighs the ‘ole day long,
      She paws the ‘ole night through,
  An’ she won’t take ‘er feed ‘cause o’ waitin’ for ‘is step,
      Which is just what a beast would do.
 
 
     ‘Is girl she goes with a bombardier
      Before ‘er month is through;
  An’ the banns are up in church, for she’s got the beggar hooked,
      Which is just what a girl would do.
 
 
     We fought ‘bout a dog – last week it were —
      No more than a round or two;
  But I strook ‘im cruel ‘ard, an’ I wish I ‘adn’t now,
      Which is just what a man can’t do.
 
 
     ‘E was all that I ‘ad in the way of a friend,
      An’ I’ve ‘ad to find one new;
  But I’d give my pay an’ stripe for to get the beggar back,
      Which it’s just too late to do.
 
 
       So it’s knock out your pipes an’ follow me!
       An’ it’s finish off your swipes an’ follow me!
        Oh, ‘ark to the fifes a-crawlin’!
         Follow me – follow me ‘ome!
 
 
            Take ‘im away!  ‘E’s gone where the best men go.
            Take ‘im away!  An’ the gun-wheels turnin’ slow.
            Take ‘im away!  There’s more from the place ‘e come.
            Take ‘im away, with the limber an’ the drum.
 
 
       For it’s “Three rounds blank” an’ follow me,
       An’ it’s “Thirteen rank” an’ follow me;
        Oh, passin’ the love o’ women,
         Follow me – follow me ‘ome!
 

THE SERGEANT’S WEDDIN’

 
  ‘E was warned agin’ ‘er —
   That’s what made ‘im look;
  She was warned agin’ ‘im —
   That is why she took.
  ‘Wouldn’t ‘ear no reason,
   ‘Went an’ done it blind;
  We know all about ‘em,
   They’ve got all to find!
 
 
       Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’ —
       Give ‘em one cheer more!
       Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
       An’ a rogue is married to, etc.
 
 
  What’s the use o’ tellin’
   ‘Arf the lot she’s been?
  ‘E’s a bloomin’ robber,
   An’’ ‘e keeps canteen.
  ‘Ow did ‘e get ‘is buggy?
   Gawd, you needn’t ask!
  ‘Made ‘is forty gallon
   Out of every cask!
 
 
  Watch ‘im, with ‘is ‘air cut,
   Count us filin’ by —
  Won’t the Colonel praise ‘is
   Pop – u – lar – i – ty!
  We ‘ave scores to settle —
   Scores for more than beer;
  She’s the girl to pay ‘em —
   That is why we’re ‘ere!
 
 
  See the chaplain thinkin’?
   See the women smile?
  Twig the married winkin’
   As they take the aisle?
  Keep your side-arms quiet,
   Dressin’ by the Band.
  Ho!  You ‘oly beggars,
   Cough be’ind your ‘and!
 
 
  Now it’s done an’ over,
   ‘Ear the organ squeak,
  “‘Voice that breathed o’er Eden” —
   Ain’t she got the cheek!
  White an’ laylock ribbons,
   Think yourself so fine!
  I’d pray Gawd to take yer
   ‘Fore I made yer mine!
 
 
  Escort to the kerridge,
   Wish ‘im luck, the brute!
  Chuck the slippers after —
   [Pity ‘tain’t a boot!]
  Bowin’ like a lady,
   Blushin’ like a lad —
  ‘Oo would say to see ‘em
   Both is rotten bad?
 
 
       Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’ —
        Give ‘em one cheer more!
       Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
        An’ a rogue is married to, etc.
 

THE JACKET

 
  Through the Plagues of Egyp’ we was chasin’ Arabi,
   Gettin’ down an’ shovin’ in the sun;
  An’ you might ‘ave called us dirty, an’ you might ha’ called us dry,
   An’ you might ‘ave ‘eard us talkin’ at the gun.
  But the Captain ‘ad ‘is jacket, an’ the jacket it was new —
   (‘Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
  An’ the wettin’ of the jacket is the proper thing to do,
   Nor we didn’t keep ‘im waitin’ very long.
 
 
  One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt,
   Loadin’ down the axle-arms with case;
  But the Captain knew ‘is dooty, an’ he took the crackers out
   An’ he put some proper liquor in its place.
  An’ the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an’-thirty clear.
   (‘Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
  “Will you draw the weight,” sez ‘e, “or will you draw the beer?”
    An’ we didn’t keep ‘im waitin’ very long.
    For the Captain, etc.
  Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin’ glass,
   Though the Arabites ‘ad all their ranges marked;
  But we dursn’t ‘ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass,
   An’ we’d dreamed of it since we was disembarked:
  So we fired economic with the shells we ‘ad in ‘and,
   (‘Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
  But the beggars under cover ‘ad the impidence to stand,
   An’ we couldn’t keep ‘em waitin’ very long.
    And the Captain, etc.
  So we finished ‘arf the liquor (an’ the Captain took champagne),
   An’ the Arabites was shootin’ all the while;
  An’ we left our wounded ‘appy with the empties on the plain,
   An’ we used the bloomin’ guns for pro-jec-tile!
  We limbered up an’ galloped – there were nothin’ else to do —
   (‘Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
  An’ the Battery came a-boundin’ like a boundin’ kangaroo,
   But they didn’t watch us comin’ very long.
    As the Captain, etc.
  We was goin’ most extended – we was drivin’ very fine,
   An’ the Arabites were loosin’ ‘igh an’ wide,
  Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin’ right incline,
   An’ we dropped upon their ‘eads the other side.
  Then we give ‘em quarter – such as ‘adn’t up and cut,
   (‘Orse Gunners, listen to my song!)
  An’ the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy – somethin’ Brutt,
   But we didn’t leave it fizzing very long.
    For the Captain, etc.
  We might ha’ been court-martialled, but it all come out all right
   When they signalled us to join the main command.
  There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight,
   An’ the Captain waved a corkscrew in ‘is ‘and.
    But the Captain ‘ad ‘is jacket, etc.