THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD
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Sent out a flanking party
With Jemadar Hira Lal.
The men of the First Shikaris
Shouted and smote and slew,
Turning the grinning jingal
On to the howling crew.
The Jemadar's flanking-party
Butchered the folk who flew.
Long was the morn of slaughter,
Long was the list of slain,
Five score heads were taken
Five score heads and twain;
And the men of the First Shikaris
Went back to their grave again;
Each man bearing a basket
Red as his palms that day,
Red as the blazing village—
The village of Pabengmay.
And the "drip-drip-drip" from the baskets
Reddened the grass by the way.
They made a pile of their trophies