Who'd the Germanized courage to stay in it.
From Suez they scattered the truculent Turk,
To far Teheran and to Tripoli;
And at last they beheld British Jackies at work
On the gun-bristled hills of Gallipoli:
On the gun-bristled hills of Gallipoli,
A minute of wading in bullet-splashed waves,
The Cooees of Motherland thrilling 'em.
But those minutes cut holes in that brown line of braves
And—What about filling 'em?