The general eard the firin on the flank, An e sent a mounted man to bring im back The silly, pushin persons name an rank Ood dared to answer Brother Boers attack: For there might ave been a serious engagement, An e might ave wasted alf a dozen men; So e ordered im to stop is operations round the kopjes, An e told im off before the Staff at ten! And it all goes into the laundry, But it never comes out in the wash, Ow were sugared about by the old men (Eavy sterned amateur old men!) That amper an inder an scold men For fear o Stellenbosh!* The General ad produced a great effect, The General ad the country cleared, almost; The General ad no reason to expect, And the Boers ad us bloomin well on toast! For we might ave crossed the drift before the twilight, Instead o sitting down an takin root; But we was not allowed, so the Boojers scooped the crowd, To the last survivin bandolier an boot. The General saw the farmouse in is rear, With its stoep so nicely shaded from the sun; Sez e, Ill pitch my tabernacle ere, An e kept us muckin round till e ad done. For e might ave caught the confluent pneumonia From sleepin in his gaiters in the dew; So e took a book an dozed while the other columns closed And De Wets commando out an trickled through! The General saw the mountain-range ahead, With their elios showin saucy on the eight, So e eld us to the level ground instead, An telegraphed the Boojers would nt fight. For e might ave gone an sprayed em with a pompom, Or e might ave slung a squadron out to see, Bute was nt takin chances in them igh an ostile kranzes, He was markin time to earn a K.C.B The General got is decorations thick (The men that backed is lies could not complain), The Staff ad D.S.O.s till we was sick, An the soldier, ad the work to do again! For e might ave known the District was an otbed, Instead of andin over, upside-down, To a man oo ad to fight alf a year to put it right, While the General went an slandered im in town! An it all went into the laundry, But it never came out in the wash. We were sugared about by the old men (Panicky, perishin old men) That amper an inder an scold men For fear o Stellenbosh!
Return to the Rudyard Kipling Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Study Of An Elevation, In Indian Ink