ELEPHANTS OF THE GUN TEAMS
We lent to Alexander the strength of Hercules
The wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees
We bowed our necks to service: they ne’er were loosed again
Make way there—way for the ten-foot teams
Of the Forty-Pounder train
GUN BULLOCKS
Those heroes in their harnesses avoid a cannon-ball
And what they know of powder upsets them one and all
Then we come into action and tug the guns again
Make way there—way for the twenty yoke
Of the Forty-Pounder train
CAVALRY HORSES
By the brand on my shoulder, the finest of tunes
Is played by the Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons
And it’s sweeter than “Stables” or “Water” to me
The Cavalry Canter of “Bonnie Dundee
Then feed us and break us and handle and groom
And give us good riders and plenty of room
And launch us in column of squadron and see
The way of the war-horse to “Bonnie Dundee
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 everywhere
Oh, 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 everywhere
Oh, 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 hair trombone
Rtt-ta-ta-ta! is a hair trombone
And this our marching-song
Can’t! Don’t! Shan’t! Won’t
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! Arrh
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.
See our line across the plain
Like a heel-rope bent again
Reaching, writhing, rolling far
Sweeping all away to war
While the men that walk beside
Dusty, silent, heavy-eyed
Cannot tell why we or they
March and suffer day by day.
Children of the Camp are we
Serving each in his degree
Children of the yoke and goad
Pack and harness, pad and load
The End
