And after—ask the Yusufzaies
What comes of all our 'ologies.
A scrimmage in a border station,
A canter down some dark defile—
Two thousand pounds of education
Drops to a ten-rupee jezail!
The crammer's boast, the squadron's pride
Shot like a rabbit in a ride.
No proposition Euclid wrote,
No formulae the text-book know,