Ballads of Battle/The Mouth-Organ
THE MOUTH-ORGAN
When drum and fife are silent,When the pipes are packed away,And the soldiers goToo near the foeFor the bugle's noisy bray;When our haversacks are heavy,And our packs like Christian's load,Then Jimmy Morgan[1]Plays his old mouth-organ,To cheer us on our road."It's a long, long way to Tipperary—"
When by the shrunken riverReclined the great god Pan,And to his needs,Cut down the reeds—And music first began;Then all mankind did marvelAt a melody so sweet;But when Jimmy MorganPlays his old mouth-organ,Even Pan takes second seat!
When Orpheus, of old time,Did strike his magic lute,He lorded it,As he thought fit,O'er boulder, bird, and brute;And great trees were uprooted,And root-marched, so to say,But when Jimmy MorganPlays his old mouth-organ,You should see us march away.
When the Piper Pied of Hamelin,In the legend of renown,His pipe did play,He charmed awayThe children from the town:But behold our whole Battalion—To the joy of wife and wench—Led by Jimmy Morgan,And his old mouth-organ,March forward to the trench."Here we are, here we are, here we are again!"
O, an overture by WagnerStrikes sweetly on mine ear,And that noble three,Brahms, Bach, and Beethoven, I love to hear;But when the rains are falling,And when the roads are long,Give me Jimmy MorganAnd his old mouth-organTo lead our little song."A-roving, a-roving; we'll gang nae mair a-roving!"
Sometimes he pipes us grave notes,Sometimes he pipes us gay;Till broken feetTake up the beatOf quick-step or Strathspey:But he plays upon our heart-stringsWhen he plays a Scottish tune—Hear Jimmy MorganAnd his old mouth-organAt "The Banks o' Bonnie Doon"!
He has a twist upon his mouth,A twinkle in his e'e;A roguish air,A deil-ma-care,Like the Piper o' Dundee:Faith! we would dance thro' half o' France,And a' the trenches carry,If Jimmy MorganOn his old mouth-organ,Did but give us "Annie Laurie"!
And when the war is over—The war we mean to win—And Kaiser BillHas had his pill,And we boys march thro' Berlin;"Unter den Linden" going,We'll need no pipes to blow—Just Jimmy MorganAnd his old mouth-organ,Leading us as we go!—"Highland laddie, Highland laddie; whar hae you been a' the day?"[2]
And when this life is ended,And Morgan gone aloft,He will not carpTho' he get no harp,Nor trumpet sweet and soft;But if there be a place for himIn the Angelic choir,Give Jimmy MorganHis old mouth-organ,And he'll play and never tire.
- ↑ Though for obvious reasons of rhyme I have here ventured to appropriate the classic name "Jimmy Morgan," nevertheless the best mouth-organist in D Company, if not in the battalion, is 2203 Private William Brough. He informs me that his present instrument is something the worse for wear.
- ↑ The Regimental March of the Black Watch.