I am tire now of roam', Rosemarie,
An' long to be at home 'mong de tree,
W'ere de Robin redbreas' sing
In de branches every spring,
An' de bes' of everyt'ing, You wit' me!
For de independen' man, Rosemarie,
Farmin' is de bettair plan, seem to me;
W'ere no boss is stan' an' swear
Till you feel lak pull you' hair—
O! ba gosh I want ma fare rat away!
Yes, if man has got one soul, Rosemarie,
Don' it mak' him hot lak ol' Mont Pelee!
To be order' ro'nd his work
Lak some lezzy dog-gone Turk—
By a boss call Barney Burke, O sacre!
O, I long to see my farm, Rosemarie;
W'ere ol' Nature full of charm wait for me—
W'ere de angel painter deck
Ev'ry sod an' stone an' stick:
Ro'nd ma home in ol' Kebec, Rosemarie!
Yes, I dream abo't it all, Rosemarie,
Ev'ry tam to sleep I fall, night or day:
I can see dat bock-wheat fiel'
Dat is soon be turn to meal,
An' I hear de fat pig squeal, "hot gravie"!
O, ma heart is on de jomp, Rosemarie,
For be back among de stomp, You an' me:
Ma potato in de lot,
An' ma onion growin' hot,
An' de sweet pea in de pot, hully gee!
Sergeant-Major Larry.
SERGEANT MAJOR LARRY
OF THE GALLANT 58TH
In '96 the author served his Queen for two weeks on the plains of Rockland, near Richmond, Que., as orderly under the gallant Capt. Peter Gillies, now of Bury, P. Q. One of the subordinate officers becoming the butt of his comrades owing to unpopular tactics the following "Come-allye" resulted. The author may add that this "drill" ended his military career—he hasn't been orderly since.
——————
O come all ye loyal volunteers,
You're ordered for review:
Keep your eyes on Sergeant Larry
Of the famous "No. 2".
He's the model of a soldier,
And 'tis worth your while to watch
How he handles the maneuvers
In his drill among the Scotch.
Sure his "honors" sought him early,
He was here but half a week,
When the call came: "Forward, Larry,
You're promoted for your cheek:
Take your stripes and stand for orders
And reveal to No. 2
What a mixture of conceit and gall,
With brass and cheek, can do."
And the "orders" are "Fall in, my men,
Look sharp, and don't be late!
Signed, Sergeant Major Larry,
Of the gallant 58."
Come, my boys, you need not grumble,
You have but to grin and yield,
For brave Kitchener's "not in it"
When bold Larry's on the field.
When we started down from Scotstown
We were just as big as him,
But his honors won so quickly
Made the rest of us look slim.
O, he swelled in regimentals
Till he quite outgrew his tent,
But he'll get the one he asked for
When old Hogan pays his rent.
O we are loyal volunteers,
Our red coats prove us so,
We are ready, aye, and willing now
To meet our country's foe.
Who would not be proud of Canada
And for her sake to bleed?
For success would crown our efforts
If bold Larry took the lead.
Yes, the sword that dangles by his side's
A borrowed one, I know
But it matters not to Larry,
As it helps to make a show!
See him strut around the camp ground,
Like a peacock in the grass!
And the "staff" will send him higher
When it needs a boom in brass.
Such was Larry bold—in peace time—
He was brave as Lochinvar,
But he quickly changed his music
As the bugle called for war;
When the Highlanders grew wrathy,
With their hair straight up on end,
Sergeant Larry dropped at Bury,
As he wished to see a friend!
We were left without a leader
And the riot louder swelled,
Divers Scotsmen drew their bayonets
And for blood they madly yelled.
Ev'ry car was full of soldiers,
Noisy as salvation drum,
On the day we left Camp Rockland
And the troops came shouting home.
After Larry comes the "Colonel,"
And a valiant man is he,
Tho' he never led his forces
From "Atlanta to the sea";
Yet, if e'er the country needs him,
Every clansman will awake,
From old Hampton down to Weedon
And from Lingwick to the Lake.
We will conquer with our music
If our fighting fails to win,
Whom bold Larry cannot vanquish
We will silence with our din;
Thus we'll proudly march to glory
And in midst of all the fray
We'll be cheered by French of Scotstown
As he whistles "Cabar Faidth."
And McLennan with his bagpipes,
He's a brass band in himself,
We will have him with his music
To conjure the fighting elf.
There is nothing so inspiring
As a loyal tune or song,
To arouse a soldier's spirits
And to cheer the "boys" along.
We will have them there from Scotstown,
From Ben gal and Echo Vale,
Men imbued with faith and courage,
Highland traits which never fail;
And to swell the fighting faction
We've the twins of Murray's Clan,
Who can fight their weight in wildcats—
Not to mention mortal man!
And we've armies to fall back on,
Whose supply will never fail,
Troops which cross the wild Atlantic
On all ships of steam or sail;
You will find them throughout Canada,
Wherever you may roam,
And the natives call them "home boys",
For they never stop at home.