Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/478

 With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, an' the sun off the snow in your face, An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes to hold the old gun in 'er place 'Tss! 'Tss! For you all love the screw-guns. ..

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin'-cool, I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule' The monkey can say what our road was the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast—Tss! Tss! For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you! So when we take tea with a few guns, o' course you will know what to do—hoo! hoo! Jest send in your Chief an' surrender—it's worse if you fights or you runs: You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, but you can't get away from the guns!

'VE a head like a concertina, I've a tongue like a buttonstick, I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard; I've made the cinders fly, And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal's eye. With a second-hand overcoat under my head, And a beautiful view of the yard, O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C. B. For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"