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INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918
5
Thus, the artless songs I singDo not deal with anything New or never said before.As it was in the beginningIs to-day official sinning, And shall be for evermore!
Army Headquarters
Old is the song that I sing— Old as my unpaid bills—Old as the chicken that kitmutgars[1] bring Men at dâk-bungalows—old as the Hills.
Ahasuerus Jenkins of the "Operatic Own,"Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-Santley tone.His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle queer.He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh! he had an ear.
He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times a day;He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way;His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders,But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders.
He took two months at Simla when the year was at the spring,And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.He warbled like a bul-bul[2], but particularly atCornelia Agrippina, who was musical and fat.
She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a Dept.Where Cornelia Agrippina's human singing-birds were keptFrom April to October on a plump retaining-fee,Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.
