Page:The writings in prose and verse of Rudyard Kipling (IA cu31924057346631).pdf/53

 Oh! it's everlasting gun-drill
 * And eight-o'clock parades,

It's cleaning-up of mortars
 * (Likewise of carronades),

While the passes ring with rifles
 * And the noise of Afghan raids.

And I look across the ramparts
 * To the river broad and gray,

And I think of merry England
 * Where the festive Horse Guards play.

Oh! take the senior grades for this
 * And spare the young R.A.!

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