Danny Deever

"What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Fileson-Parade.

"It's Danny's soul that's passin' now," the ColorSergeant said.

For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quick-step play.

The regiment's in column, an' they 're marchin' us away;

Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day,

After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

TOMMY

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer

The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats

here."

The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit

to die,

I outs into the street again, an' to myself sez i :

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away;"

But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play,

The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play.

O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play.

I went into a theater as sober as could be,

They give a drunk civilian room, but 'ad n't none for me;

They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside;"

But it's "6 Special train for Atkins," when the trooper's on the tide,

The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide.

O it's "Special train for Atkins," when the trooper's on the tide.

Tommy

O makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you

sleep

Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they 're starvation

cheap ;

An' hustlin' drunken sodgers when they re goin' large a bit

Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"

But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,

The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll.

It's a "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We are n't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,

But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy

paints,

Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints.

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind;"

But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,

There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind.

And it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all :

We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational, Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face

The Widow's uniform is not the soldierman's disgrace. For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute ! "

But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;

An' it's Tommy this an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;

An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!

"FUZZY-WUZZY."

We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not :
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;

But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im;

'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,

An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Sowdan;

You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;

We gives you your certifikit, an' if you want it signed,

We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you 're inclined.

We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman guv us Irriwaddy chills,

An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style :
But all we ever got from such as they

Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.

Song of the first Soudan expedition.

Fuzzy-A dervish, follower of El Mahdi.
Impi-Zulu regiment in battle array.