Page:The Seven Seas (Kipling, 1896).djvu/210

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
188
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

Our Colonel's white an' twitterly—'e gets no sleep nor food.
But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good.
'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay—
But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day.


Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides.
An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides!
With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay!
'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day.


An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks—
He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks;
An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray;
So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day.