530 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
When I think o' that ignorant barrack-bird, it almost makes
me cry.
I used to belong in an Army once (Gawd! what a rum little Army once), Red little, dead little Army once! But now I am M. I.!
That is what we are known as we are the men that have
been
Over a year at the business, smelt it an' felt it an' seen. We 'aye got 'old of the needful you will be told by and by; Wait till you've 'card the Ikonas, spoke to the old M. I.!
Mount march, Ikonas ! Stand to your 'orses again ! Mop off the frost on the saddles, mop up the miles on the plain. Out go the stars in the dawning up goes our dust to the sky, Walk trot, Ikonas ! Trek jou, 1 the old M. I. !
COLUMNS
(Mobile Columns of the Boer War)
o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry (Time, an 'igh time to be trekkin' again /). 'Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply? A section, a pompom, an six 'undred men.
'Ere comes the clerk with 'is lantern an' keys (Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again /)
"Surplus of everything draw what you please "For the section, the pompom, an' six 'undred men."
1 Get ahead.