Page:The Seven Seas (Kipling, 1896).djvu/71

 THE NATIVE-BORN

drunk to the Queen—God bless her!—

We've drunk to our mothers' land;

We've drunk to our English brother

(But he does not understand);

We've drunk to the wide creation,

And the Cross swings low for the morn,

Last toast, and of obligation,

A health to the Native-born!

They change their skies above them,

But not their hearts that roam!

We learned from our wistful mothers

To call old England 'home';

We read of the English sky-lark,

Of the spring in the English lanes,

But we screamed with the painted lories

As we rode on the dusty plains!

49