Departmental Ditties and Barrack Room Ballads Part 20

It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills!

O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont!

A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm!

We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm.

The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one.

O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont!

The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, An' when we get him up again--the beggar goes an' dies!

'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight--'e smells most awful vile; 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two.

O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont!

When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front-- It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im.

So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last.

O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont!

The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies.

1Camel--oo is p.r.o.nounced like u in "bull," but by Mr. Atkins to rhyme with "front."

LOOT

If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, If you've ever snigged the was.h.i.+n' from the line, If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, You will understand this little song o' mine.

But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, For the same with English morals does not suit.

(Cornet: Toot! toot!) W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber With the-- (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot!

Ow the loot!

Bloomin' loot!

That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot!

It's the same with dogs an' men, If you'd make 'em come again Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot!

(ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

If you've knocked a n.i.g.g.e.r edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well.

Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.

(Chorus) With the loot,...

Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma G.o.d That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; An' if you treat a n.i.g.g.e.r to a dose o' cleanin'-rod 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns.

When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the c.h.i.n.k, An' you're sure to touch the-- (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

Ow the loot!...

When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs-- It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find-- For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind.

When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt As if there weren't enough to dust a flute (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot.

(Chorus) Ow the loot!...

You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, If you only take the proper way to go; I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew-- An' don't you never say I told you so.

An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, An' I see another tunin' up to toot (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot!

(Chorus) Yes, the loot, Bloomin' loot!

In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot!

It's the same with dogs an' men, If you'd make 'em come again (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

'SNARLEYOW'

This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow.

Down in the Infantry, n.o.body cares; Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!

They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow.

They cut 'im loose an' left 'im--'e was almost tore in two-- But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: "Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow--'is head's between 'is 'eels!"

The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, An' there ain't no "Stop, conductor!" when a batt'ry's changin' ground; Sez 'e: "I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, But I couldn't pull up, not for you--your 'ead between your 'eels!"

'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' sh.e.l.l A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels.

Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, "For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain."

They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest.

The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to "Action Front!"

An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head 'Twas juicier for the n.i.g.g.e.rs when the case begun to spread.

The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen-- You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons-- If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns!

Down in the Infantry, n.o.body cares; Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!

THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?

She 'as s.h.i.+ps on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome, An' she pays us poor beggars in red.

(Ow, poor beggars in red!)

There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, There's 'er mark on the medical stores-- An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind That takes us to various wars.

(Poor beggars!--barbarious wars!) Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces O' Missis Victorier's sons.

(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)