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THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY.
Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant
To the Senior Orderly Man:
You ’elp 'im all you can.
An' the best we may go wrong,
You pass the word along."
Then it was 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 ten-foot ditch beside.
An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed,
An' the three they wagged along,
So I didn't see nothin' wrong.
Though it was “Rounds! What rounds ?" O
corporal, 'old ’im up! 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but,
sentry, shut your eye. An' it's “Pass! All's well!” Ho, shun the foam
in' cup! 'E'll need, etc.
'Twas after four in the mornin';
We 'ad to stop the fun,
With 'is belt an' stock undone;
For six o'clock parade.
It'ad been “Rounds! What rounds?" Oh, shove
’im straight again! ’E's usin’’is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut
An' it was “Pass! All's well!” 'E's called me
"darlin' Jane"! 'E'll need, etc.
The drill was ’ard an' 'eavy,
The sky was 'ot an' blue,
But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through.
They'd done it on their ’ead;
To 'ide the things 'e said !
For it was “Right flank—wheel !” for “'Alt, an'
stand at ease!” An' “Left extend !” for “ Centre close!” O
marker, shut your eye! An' it was, “ 'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the colonel
So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an’-bye.
There was two-an'-thirty sergeants,
There was corp'rals forty-one,
To swear to a touch o' sun.
There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box
(As I 'ave not told in my song), But I took my oath, which were Bible truth,
l'adn't seen nothin' wrong.
There's them that's ’ot an’’aughty,
There's them that's cold an' 'ard,
In every kind o' way,
With Privit Thomas A.
When it is "Rounds! What rounds?" 'E's
breathin' through 'is nose. 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' ripe, but, sentry, shut
your eye. An' it's “Pass! All's well !” An' that's the way
We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us
“MARY, PITY WOMEN!”
You call yourself a man,
For all you used to swear,
My certain shame to bear ?
You done the worst you know.
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over-
(Mary, pity women !) knew it all before you?
It aren't no false alarm,
The finish to your fun;
An' I'm the ruined one;