Old is the song that I sing—
Old as my unpaid bills—
Old as the chicken that kitmutgars 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 leave 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.
And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.
He took two months at Simla when the year was at the spring.