But that's orright. Ole Ginger ain't no flirt.
"You tell my Rose," 'e writes, "she's still the sweet.
An' if Long Jim gits messin' round that skirt,
When I come back I'll do 'im up a treat.
Tell 'im, if all me arms an' legs is lame
I'll bite the blighter if 'e comes that game!"
There's jealousy! But Ginger needn't fret.
Rose is fer 'im, an' Jim ain't on 'er card;
An' since she spragged 'im last time that they met—
Jim ain't inlisted—but 'e's thinkin' 'ard.
Mick wus 'er 'ero long before the war,
An' now 'e's sort o' chalked a double score.
That's all Sir Garneo. But Mick, e's vowed
This "'Ail the 'Ero" stunt gits on 'is nerves,
An' makes 'im peevish; tho' 'e owns 'is crowd
Can mop up all the praises they deserves.
"But don't yeh spread the 'ero on too thick
If it's exhaustin' yeh," sez Ginger Mick.
"We ain't got no objections to the cheers;
We're good an' tough, an' we can stand the noise;
But three 'oorays and five or six long beers
An' loud remarks about 'Our Gallant Boys'
Sounds kind o' weak—if you'll ixcuse the word
Beside the fightin' sounds we've lately 'eard.
