“Thin Heaven help the Muddy Khels they call an Akazai!
“I lay wid them in Dublin wanst, an’ we was Oirish tu,
We passed the time av day, an’ thin the belts wint ‘whirraru,’
I misremember fwhat occurred, but, followin’ the shtorm,
A ‘Freeman’s Journal’ Supplemint was all my uniform!
“They’re rocks upon parade, but oh! in barricks they are hard—
They’re ragin,’ tearin’ divils whin there’s ructions on the kyard—
An’ onless they’ve changed their bullswools for a baby’s sock, I think
They’d rake all Hell for grandeur—an’ I know they wud for dhrink!
“An’ Bobs has sent them out to war widout a dhrop or dhrain?