Page:Departmental Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads, Kipling, 1899.djvu/389

Rh We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to, [sic] Love and Truth,

We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung,

And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.

God help us, for we knew the worst too young!

Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence,

Our pride it is to know no spur of pride,

And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us

And we die, and none can tell Them where we died.

We're poor little lambs who've lost our way,

Baa! Baa! Baa!

We're little black sheep who've gone astray,

Baa—aa—aa!

Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,

Damned from here to Eternity,

God ha' mercy on such as we,

Baa! Yah! Bah!