THE SILENT ARMY.
BY A. E. C.
The Silent Army 'as its work,
Duties that it cannot shirk,
Six days a week; then there's kirk
For us in the Silent Army.
There's guards ter mount, fatigues to do,
Bread ter make an' meat ter stew.
If yer think there's time ter write to you,
Well! strite! yer must be barmy.
Yer says yer owns as we can fight,
Able to read, but not to write;
We tries to fly our own kite,
Us chaps in the Silent Army.
We're glad enough ter git your print,
Glad enough when bound with lint,
Y're dull if yer can't take the 'int;
Indeed! yer must be barmy.
It isn't always that us men
Finds the time to use a pen,
For we've work to do, sir, when
We are in the Silent Army.
We 'as our duties to attend,
Food to cook and clothes to mend;
Arsk Kiplin', he's the sojers' friend—
The friend of the Silent Army.
[The hint has been taken as far as the hospitals are concerned. They get The Friend on application.—The Eds.]
GRUMBLES FROM THE RANKS.
That a soldier's life is a merry one
Is what some people say,
But when you're on short rations,
Well, it isn't half so gay;
And you can't "live fat" in Bloemfontein
Upon a bob a day.
Grumble No. 1.—This is a recognised fact with bread at 1s. per loaf, tea at 6d. per cup, and sugar at 1s. 6d. per lb.