ROUTE MARCHIN’
We’re marchin’ on relief over Injia’s sunny plains,
A little front o’ Christmas time an’ just be’ind the Rains,
Ho! get away, you bullock-man, you’ve ’eard the bugle blowed,
There’s a regiment a-comin’ down the Grand Trunk Road;
With its best foot first
And the road a-sliding past,
An’ every bloomin’ campin’-ground exactly like the last;
While the Big Drum says,
With ’is ‘rowdy-dowdy-dow!’—
‘Kiko kissywarsti don’t you hamsher argy jow?’
A little front o’ Christmas time an’ just be’ind the Rains,
Ho! get away, you bullock-man, you’ve ’eard the bugle blowed,
There’s a regiment a-comin’ down the Grand Trunk Road;
With its best foot first
And the road a-sliding past,
An’ every bloomin’ campin’-ground exactly like the last;
While the Big Drum says,
With ’is ‘rowdy-dowdy-dow!’—
‘Kiko kissywarsti don’t you hamsher argy jow?’
Oh, there’s them Injian temples to admire when you see,
There’s the peacock round the corner an’ the monkey up the tree,
There’s the peacock round the corner an’ the monkey up the tree,
