(To the Author of "The Grand Tour," "Punch," January 26th, 1916.)
I read your lines the other day;
You got it down in black an' white;
You seen them places wot you say;
Well, I seen Injer—and you're right.
You never know. I took the bob
The days o' Mons an' Charley Roy;
Flanders, I thought, 'ud do my job,
An' me no better than a boy.
But some'ow Flanders got a miss,
An' I came East, the same as you,
Right East, an' finished up wi' this;
I seen them towns and islands too.
But Injer! Lor, it's like a book
Or like a bloomin' fancy ball;
There's somethin' every way you look,
An' me—young me—I seen it all.
I know about them "dark bazaars"—
An' dark they is—I know them skies,
An' suns an' moons an' silver stars
An' 'ummin'-birds an' fiery-flies.
I seen the palms an' parrokeets,
I've 'eard the jackals in the night,
I've ate them beas'ly Injian sweets
An' smelt the Injian fires alight.
But I'm with you, old P. an' O.;
The goin' 'ome'll be the best;
An' not the 'ome we useter know,
But better, 'cos we've known the rest.