Imágenes de páginas


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; An' the old khansamah | snorin'

On the bottle-khana ( floor, Like a Master in good standing

With my Mother Lodge once more!

* Cigar-lighter.



OutsideSergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!
InsideBrother,an' it doesn't do noarm.
We met upon the Level anwe parted on the

An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out



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'

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 memfollow 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

Which is just what a beast would do.

'Is girl she goes with a bombardier
Before 'er month is through;

« AnteriorContinuar »