Page:Departmental Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads, Kipling, 1899.djvu/153

Rh And shuttered up one doorway in the North.

I stand by those. You'll find that both will pay,

I pledged my Name on both—they're yours to-night.

Hold to them—they hold fame enough for two.

I'm old, but I shall live till Burma pays.

Men there—not German traders—Cr-sthw-te knows—

You'll find it in my papers. For the North

Guns always—quietly—but always guns.

You've seen your Council? Yes, they'll try to rule,

And prize their Reputations. Have you met

A grim lay-reader with a taste for coins,

And faith in Sin most men withhold from God?

He's gone to England. R-p-n knew his grip

And kicked. A Council always has its H-pes.

They look for nothing from the West but Death

Or Bath or Bournemouth. Here's their ground.

They fight

Until the middle classes take them back,

One of ten millions plus a C. S. I.

Or drop in harness. Legion of the Lost?

Not altogether—earnest, narrow men,

But chiefly earnest, and they'll do your work,

And end by writing letters to the Times.