644 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
SCREW-GUN MULES
As me and my companions were scrambling up a hill,
The path was lost in rolling stones, but we went forward still;
For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up every- where,
And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare!
Good luck to every sergeant, then, that lets us pick our road !
Bad luck to all the driver-men that cannot pack a load!
For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up every- where,
And it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare !
COMMISSARIAT CAMELS
We haven't a camelty tune of our own
To help us trollop along,
But every neck is a hairAtrombone
(Rtt-ta-ta-ta ! is a hair^trombone!)
And this is our marching-song:
Cant! Don't! Shan 1 1 Wont!
Pass it along the line!
Somebody's pack has slid from his back,
'Wish it were only mine!
Somebody's load has tipped off in the road
Cheer for a halt and a row!
Urrr! Yarrh ! Grr ! Arrhl
Somebody's catching it now!
ALL THE BEASTS TOGETHER
Children of the Camp are we, Serving each in his degree; Children of the yoke and goad, Pack and harness, pad and load.
