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In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay,

An' any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day!

Back to the Army again, sergeant,

Back to the Army again:

Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant,
Out o' the cold an' the rain.

'Oo's there?

A man that's too good to be lost you,
A man that is 'andled an' made-
A man that will pay what 'e cost you

In learnin' the others their trade-parade! You're droppin' the pick o' the Army

Because you don't 'elp 'em remain,

But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street An' back to the Army again!

"BIRDS OF PREY" MARCH

MARCH! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. Front!-eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. The faces of the women in the 'ouses

Front!

Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship.

Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory.

Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! The Large Birds o' Prey

They will carry us away,

An' you'll never see your soldiers any more!

Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a

corner.

Time!-mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'erCheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows.

March!

The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out-a woman's gone and fainted! Get on-Gawd 'elp the married men to

Cheer! day!

Hoi!

Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. ('Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it

quick!)

You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick!

'Alt!

The married kit 'as all to go before us! 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er

us,

Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain!

Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'· Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all!

Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!)

The jackal an' the kite

'Ave an 'ealthy appetite,

An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip!
Urroar!)

The eagle an' the crow

They are waitin' ever so,

An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip!
Urroar!)

Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey
They will carry us away,

An' you'll never see your soldiers any

more!

"SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO"

As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile,

I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style.

'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, an' I sez to 'im, "'Oo are you?'

Sez 'e, "I'm a Jolly - 'Er Majesty's Jolly-soldier an' sailor too!"

Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through;

'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the

crew.

'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite-soldier an' sailor too!

An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things,

Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings;

'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew,

An' 'e sweats like a Jolly - 'Er Majesty's Jolly —

soldier an' sailor too!

For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do

You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to

paddle 'is own canoe

'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse-soldier an' sailor too.

We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, and drunk with 'em in betweens,

When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, an' we called 'em the Ass Marines;

But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo,

We sent for the Jollies-'Er Majesty's Jollies-soldier an' sailor too!

They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, and they never ask what's to do,

But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew.

Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes-soldier an' sailor too.

You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards,

Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards;

But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view,

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