THE ORF'CER BOY
“He was a gran' bhoy!”—Mulvaney.
Now 'e aren't got no whiskers
An' 'e's only five foot 'igh,
(All the same 'e is a' orf'cer hof the Queen!)
Oh, 'is voice is like a loidy's
An' 'e's so polite an' shy!
(All the same 'e serves 'Er Majesty the Queen!)
It is only 'bout a year ago 'e left 'is mother's knee,
It is only 'bout a month ago 'e come acrost the sea,
It is only 'bout a week that 'e 'as been aleadin' me.
(That's the way 'e serves 'Er Majesty the Queen!)
'E is such a little chappie,
Bein' only five foot 'igh,
That you'd wonder how 'is likes could serve the Queen;
You would think that when 'e 'eard the guns
'E'd just set down an' cry—
A-forgettin' ev'rythink about the Queen;
But by all that's good an' holy, you'd be extraord'ny wrong,
'Cos 'e doesn't like no singin' 'arf as good 's the Gatlin's song,
An' 'e fights as though 'e'd been a-fightin' twenty times as long
As any other man that serves the Queen!
If you'd seen him when we got to where
The Modder's deep an' wet,
You'd a-knowed 'e was a' orf'cer hof the Queen!
There's a dozen of the enemy
That ain't forgot 'im yet—
For 'e run 'is sword clean through 'em for the Queen!
Oh, 'e aren't much on whiskers an' 'e aren't much on 'eight,
An' a year or two ago 'e was a-learnin' for to write,
But you bet your soldier's shillin' 'e's the devil in a fight—
An' 'ed die to serve 'Er Majesty the Queen!