| |
| THE ’EATHEN in ’is blindness bows down to wood an’ stone; | |
| ’E don’t obey no orders unless they is ’is own; | |
| ’E keeps ’is side-arms awful: ’e leaves ’em all about, | |
| An’ then comes up the Regiment an’ pokes the ’eathen out. | |
| |
| All along o’ dirtiness, all along o’ mess, | 5 |
| All along o’ doin’ things rather-more-or-less, | |
| All along of abby-nay, 1 kul, 2 an’ hazar-ho, 3 | |
| Mind you keep your rifle an’ yourself jus’ so! | |
| |
| The yound recruit is ’aughty—’e draf’s from Gawd knows where; | |
| They bid ’im show ’is stockin’s an’ lay ’is mattress square; | 10 |
| ’E calls it bloomin’ nonsense—’e doesn’t know, no more— | |
| An’ then up comes ’is Company an kicks ’im round the floor! | |
| |
| The young recruit is ’ammered—’e takes it very hard; | |
| ’E ’angs ’is ’ead an’ mutters—’e sulks about the yard; | |
| ’E talks o’ “cruel tyrants” which ’e’ll swing for by-an’-by, | 15 |
| An’ the others ’ears an’ mocks ’im, an’ the boy goes orf to cry. | |
| |
| The young recruit is silly—’e thinks o’ suicide; | |
| ’E’s lost ’is gutter-devil; ’e asn’t got ’is pride; | |
| But day by day they kicks ’im, which ’elps ’im on a bit, | |
| Till ’e finds ’isself one mornin’ with a full an’ proper kit. | 20 |
| |
| Gettin’ clear o’ dirtiness, gettin’ done with mess, | |
| Gettin’ shut o’ doin’ things rather-more-or-less; | |
| Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, | |
| Learns to keep ’is rifle an’ ’isself jus’ so! | |
| |
| The young recruit is ’appy—’e throws a chest to suit; | 25 |
| You see ’im grow mustaches; you ’ear ’im slap ’is boot; | |
| ’E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word ’e slings, | |
| An’ ’e shows an ’ealthy brisket when ’e strips for bars an’ rings. | |
| |
| The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch ’im ’arf a year; | |
| They watch ’im with ’is comrades, they watch ’im with ’is beer; | 30 |
| They watch ’im with the women at the regimental dance, | |
| And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send ’is name along for “Lance.” | |
| |
| An’ now ’e’s ’arf o’ nothin’, an’ all a private yet, | |
| ’Is room they up an’ rags ’im to see what they will get. | |
| They rags ’im low an’ cunnin’, each dirty trick they can, | 35 |
| But ’e learns to sweat ’is temper an’ ’e learns to sweat ’is man. | |
| |
| An’, last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, | |
| ’E schools ’is men at cricket, ’e tells ’em on parade; | |
| They sees ’im quick an’ ’andy, uncommon set an’ smart, | |
| An’ so ’e talks to orficers which ’ave the Core at ’eart. | 40 |
| |
| ’E learns to do ’is watchin’ without it showin’ plain; | |
| ’E learns to save a dummy, an’ shove ’im straight again; | |
| ’E learns to check a ranker that’s buyin’ leave to shirk; | |
| An’ ’e learns to make men like ’im so they’ll learn to like their work. | |
| |
| An’ when it comes to marchin’ he’ll see their socks are right, | 45 |
| An’ when it comes to action ’e shows ’em how to sight. | |
| ’E knows their ways of thinkin’ and just what’s in their mind; | |
| ’E knows when they are takin’ on an’ when they’ve fell be’ind. | |
| |
| ’E knows each talkin’ corpril that leads a squad astray; | |
| ’E feels ’is innards ’eavin’, ’is bowels givin’ way; | 50 |
| ’E sees the blue-white faces all tryin’ ’ard to grin, | |
| An’ ’e stands an’ waits an’ suffers till it’s time to cap ’em in. | |
| |
| An’ now the hugly bullets come peckin’ through the dust, | |
| An’ no one wants to face ’em, but every beggar must; | |
| So, like a man in irons, which isn’t glad to go, | 55 |
| They moves ’em off by companies uncommon stiff an’ slow. | |
| |
| Of all ’is five years’ schoolin’ they don’t remember much | |
| Excep’ the not retreatin’, the step an’ keepin’ touch. | |
| It looks like teachin’ wasted when they duck an’ spread an’ ’op— | |
| But if ’e ’adn’t learned ’em they’d be all about the shop. | 60 |
| |
| An’ now it’s “’Oo goes backward?” an’ now it’s “’Oo comes on?” | |
| And now it’s “Get the doolies,” an’ now the Captain’s gone; | |
| An’ now it’s bloody murder, but all the while they ’ear | |
| ’Is voice, the same as barrick-drill, a-shepherdin’ the rear. | |
| |
| ’E’s just as sick as they are, ’is ’eart is like to split, | 65 |
| But ’e works ’em, works ’em, works ’em till he feels ’em take the bit; | |
| The rest is ’oldin’ steady till the watchful bugles play, | |
| An’ ’e lifts ’em, lifts ’em, lifts ’em through the charge that wins the day! | |
| |
| The ’eathen in ’is blindness bows down to wood an’ stone; | |
| ’E don’t obey no orders unless they is ’is own. | 70 |
| The ’eathen in ’is blindness must end where ’e began, | |
| But the backbone of the Army is the Non-commissioned Man! | |
| |
| Keep away from dirtiness—keep away from mess, | |
| Don’t get into doin’ things rather-more-or-less! | |
| Let’s ha’ done with abby-nay, kul, and hazar-ho; | 75 |
| Mind you keep your rifle an’ yourself jus’ so! | |
