O there'll surely come a day
When they'll give you all your pay,
And treat you as a Christian ought to do;
So, until that day comes round,
Heaven keep you safe and sound,
And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!
BOBS
(Field Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar)
THERE'S a little red-faced man,
Which is Bobs,
Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can—
Our Bobs.
If it bucks or kicks or rears,
'E can sit for twenty years
With a smile round both 'is ears—
Can't yer, Bobs?
Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur—little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's our pukka Kandahader—
Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel[1];
'E's the man that done us well,
An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell—
Won't we, Bobs?
If a limber's slipped a trace,
'Ook on Bobs.
If a marker's lost 'is place,
- ↑ Get ahead.
