They don't know nothin', bein' reared
Out 'ere where war 'as never spread—
"A land by bloodless conquest won,"
As some son uv a writin' gun
Sez in a book I read—
They don't know nix but wot they're told
At school; an' that sticks till they're old.
Yeh've got to take the kid at school,
Gettin' 'is 'ist'ry lesson learned—
Then tales uv Nelson an' uv Drake,
Uv Wellin'ton an' Fightin' Blake.
'Is little 'eart 'as burned
To get right out an' 'ave a go,
An' sock it into some base foe.
Nothin' but glory fills 'is mind;
The British charge is somethin' grand;
The soldier that 'e reads about
Don't 'ave no time for fear an' doubt;
'E's the 'eroic brand.
So, when that boy gets in the game,
'E jist wades in an' does the same.
Not bein' old 'ands at the stunt,
They simply does as they are told:
But, bein' Aussies—Spare me days!—
