But we've got you out of a good deal of that,
Sir Evelyn and the rest of us. You foller;
And you'll fight yer weight in (Soudanese) wild cat
One day, nor let the Fuzzies knock you oller.
Then 'ere's to you, my fine Fellah, and the missis and the kid!
When you stand a Dervish devil-rush, and do as you are bid,
You'll just make a Tommy Atkins of a quiet Coptic sort;
And I shouldn't wonder then, mate, if the Fuzzies see some sport.
Some would like us lads to clear out! Wot say you?
We don't tumble to the Parties and their fakes;