If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!

MANDALAY

BY THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the

sea,

There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they

say:

"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"

Come you, back to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay:

Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon

to Mandalay?

On the road to Mandalay,

Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat-jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,

An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: Bloomin' idol made o' mud

Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd

Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!

On the road to Mandalay

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,

She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"

With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. Elephints a-pilin' teak

In the sludgy, squdgy creek,

Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!

On the road to Mandalay

.

But that's all shove be'ind me-long ago an' fur away, An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;

An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: "If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed

naught else."

No! you won't 'eed nothin' else

But them spicy garlic smells,

An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;

On the road to Mandalay

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
'Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the
Strand,

An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?

Beefy face an' grubby 'and

Law! wot do they understand?

I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the

worst,

Where there are n't no Ten Commandments an' a man can

raise a thirst;

For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be-
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,

With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to
Mandalay!

O the road to Mandalay,

Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

TROOPIN'

(Old English Army in the East)

TROOPIN', troopin', troopin' to the sea:

'Ere's September come again-the six-year men are free. O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,

Our ship is at the shore,

An' you must pack your 'aversack,

For we won't come back no more.

Ho, don't you grieve for me,

My lovely Mary-Ann,

For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
As a time-expired man.

The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail,
An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail.
Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay,
But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day.

They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain,

All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain. They'll kill us of pneumonia-for that's their little wayBut damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day!

Troopin', troopin', winter's round again!

See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign;

Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your payWhat's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day.

Troopin', troopin', give another cheer

'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer.

The Colonel an' the Regiment an' all who 've got to stay, Gawd's Mercy strike 'em gentle Whoop! we're goin' 'om

to-day.

We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,
Our ship is at the shore,

An' you must pack your 'aversack,

For we won't come back no more.

Ho, don't you grieve for me,

My lovely Mary-Ann,

For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit

As a time-expired man.

THE WIDOW'S PARTY

"WHERE have you been this while away,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"

Out with the rest on a picnic lay.

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!

They called us out of the barrack-yard
To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
And you can't refuse when you get the card,
And the Widow gives the party.

(Bugle: Ta―rara—ra-ra-rara!)

"What did you get to eat and drink Johnnie, Johnnie?"

Standing water as thick as ink,

Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! A bit o' beef that were three year stored, A bit o' mutton as tough as a board,

And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, When the Widow give the party.

"What did you do for knives and forks,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"

We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!

And some was sliced and some was halved,
And some was crimped and some was carved,
And some was gutted and some was starved,
When the Widow give the party.

"What ha' you done with half your mess,
Johnnie, Johnnie?"

They could n't do more and they would n't do less,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!

They ate their whack and they drank their fill,
And I think the rations has made them ill,

For half my comp'ny's lying still

Where the Widow give the party.

"How did you get away-away,

Johnnie, Johnnie?"

On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!