They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't:
We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint:
We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits,
For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we guns that are built in two bits—'Tss! 'Tss!
For all you love the screw-guns, etc.
If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave;
If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave.
You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss.
D'you say that you sweat with the field guns? By God, you must lather with us—'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns, etc.
We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, we're out on the rocks an' the snow,
The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below,