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"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;
An' the old khansamah † snorin'
On the bottle-khana + floor,
Like a Master in good standing

With my Mother Lodge once more!

Cigar-lighter.

+ Butler.

+ Pantry.

*

Outside-" Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!

Inside-" Brother," an' it doesn't do no 'arm.

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We met upon the Level an' we parted on the

Square,

An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there!

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