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An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be

obeyed,

'E leads 'is men at cricket, 'e leads 'em on parade; They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart,

An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart.

'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin'

plain;

'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight

again;

'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to

shirk;

An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work.

An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks.

are right,

An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to

sight;

'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind;

'E feels when they are comin' on an' when they've

fell be'ind.

'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad

astray;

'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin'

way;

'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to

grin,

An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in.

An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust,

An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar

must;

So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow.

Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much

Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin'

touch.

It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op,

But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the

shop!

An' now it's "Oo goes backward ?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on ?"

An' now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone;

An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they

'ear

'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear.

'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to

split,

But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till 'e feels 'em take the bit;

The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles

play,

An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day!

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood

an' stone;

'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e

began,

But the backbone of the Army is the noncommissioned man!

Keep away from dirtiness-keep away from

mess.

Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so!

THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY.

SEZ the Junior Orderly Sergeant
To the Senior Orderly Man:
"Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut,
You 'elp 'im all you can.

For the wine was old and the night is cold,
An' the best we may go wrong,

So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box,
You pass the word along."

Then it was

66 Rounds! What rounds?" at two of a frosty night,

'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry,

shut your eye.

An' it's "Pass! All's well!" Oh, ain't 'e rockin'

tight!

'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-bye.

The moon was white on the barricks,

The road was white an' wide,

An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all,

An' the ten-foot ditch beside.

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