Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; On the road to Mandalay, Where the old Flotilla lay, With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! O the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! TROOPIN' (OUR ARMY IN THE EAST) TROOPIN', troopin', troopin' to the sea: 'Ere's September come again-the six-year men are free. O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, Our ship is at the shore, An' you must pack your 'aversack, For we won't come back no more. Ho, don't you grieve for me, My lovely Mary-Ann, For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit As a time-expired man. The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not com plain ; They'll kill us of pneumonia—for that's their little way But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! Troopin', troopin', winter 's round again! See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. Troopin', troopin', give another cheer— 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle-Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, Our ship is at the shore, An' you must pack your 'aversack, For we won't come back no more. Ho, don't you grieve for me, My lovely Mary-Ann, For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit, As a time-expired man. THE WIDOW'S PARTY 'WHERE have you been this while away, 'Johnnie, Johnnie?' Out with the rest on a picnic lay, Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! They called us out of the barrack-yard (Bugle : Ta―rara—ra-ra-rara !) 'What did you get to eat and drink, 'Johnnie, Johnnie?' Standing water as thick as ink, Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! A bit o' beef that were three year stored, A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, When the Widow give the party. E |