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SIR ALFRED COMYN LYALL.


But the British chased Amir Khan, and the roving times must cease,
My father got this village, and he sowed his crops in peace;
And I, so young and hot of blood, I had no land or wife,
So I took to the hills of Malwa, and the free Pindaree life.

Praise to the name Almighty! there is no God but one!
Mahomed is his prophet, and his will shall ever be done;
Ye shall take no use for your money, nor your faith for a ransom sell;
Ye shall make no terms with the infidel, but smite his soul to hell.

Tell me, ye men of Islam, who are rotting in shameful ease,
Who wrangle before the Feringhee for a poor man's last rupees,
Are ye better than were your fathers, who plundered with old Cheetoo,
And who fleeced the greedy traders, as the traders now fleece you?

Yes, and here's one of them coming, my father gave him a bill;
I have paid the man twice over, and here I'm paying him still;
He shows me a long stamp-paper, and must have my land, must he?
If I were twenty years younger he'd get six feet by three.

And if I were forty years younger, with my life before me to choose,
I wouldn't be lectured by Kafirs, or bullied by fat Hindoos;
But I'd go to some far-off country where Musalmans still are men,
Or take to the jungle, like Cheetoo, and die in the tiger's den.