He's an absent-minded beggar, and he may forget it all,
But we do not want his kiddies to remind him,
That we sent 'em to the workhouse while their daddy hammered Paul,
So we'll help the home our Tommy's left behind him!
Cook's home--Duke's home--home of a millionaire.
(Fifty'thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!)
Each of 'em doing his country's work (and what have you got to
spare?)
Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay! pay! pay!
FOR THE EMPIRE.
BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.
It is no more place and party,
It is no more begging votes;
But the roaring of steam-packets,
And a rushing of bluejackets
And a rally of redcoats;
For the Empire's will is hearty,
Thundered by united throats.
We are sick of talk and treason,
There is duty to be done;
By the veteran in danger,
And the lad who is a stranger
Unto strife and shrinks from none;
In the power of right and reason,
Now all classes are but one.
We have suffered and have yielded,
Till we felt the burning shame;
And long outrage and endurance
Are our glory of assurance
To begin the bloody game;
By our honour are we shielded,
In the might of England's name.
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