Not hot, like the carbine, to raid,
But when he found trouble too ready
He was glad of his big brother's aid;
For sometimes he'd scatter the outposts,
Then wait, if the foe proved too stout,
Till, at "Front into line!"
It was business of mine
While the infantry volleyed the rout—rout, rout!
While I cleared out the village in rout!
But those years have sped; long silent are my lips;