We took our chanst among the Khyber ’ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
An’ a Zulu impi dished us up in
style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We ‘eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ’oller.
Then ‘ere’s to
you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you,
an’ of course we went an’ did.
We sloshed you with Martinis,
an’ it wasn’t ’ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin’
you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.
’E ’asn’t got no papers of ’is
own,
’E ’asn’t got no medals
nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill ’e’s shown
In usin’ of ’is long two-’anded
swords:
When ’e’s ‘oppin’ in an’
out among the bush
With ‘is coffin-’eaded shield
an’ shovel-spear,
An ’appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an ’ealthy Tommy for a
year.
So ‘ere’s to you,
Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ your friends which are no more,
If we ’adn’t lost
some messmates we would ’elp you to deplore;
But give an’ take’s
the gospel, an’ we’ll call the bargain
fair,
For if you ’ave lost
more than us, you crumpled up the square!
’E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
An’, before we know, ’e’s
‘ackin’ at our ’ead;
’E’s all ‘ot sand an’ ginger
when alive,
An’ ‘e’s generally shammin’
when ’e’s dead.
’E’s a daisy, ’e’s a ducky,
’e’s a lamb!
’E’s a injia-rubber idiot
on the spree,
’E’s the on’y thing that doesn’t
give a damn
For a Regiment o’ British Infantree!
So ’ere’s to you,
Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Soudan;
You’re a pore benighted
‘eathen but a first-class fightin’ man;
An’ ’ere’s
to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your ’ayrick ’ead
of ’air—
You big black boundin’
beggar—for you broke a British square!
“Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Why don’t you march with my true love?”
“We’re fresh from off the ship an’
’e’s maybe give the slip,
An’ you’d best go look for a new love.”
New love! True love!
Best go look for a new love,
The dead they cannot rise,
an’ you’d better dry your eyes,
An’ you’d best
go look for a new love.
“Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
What did you see o’ my true love?”
“I seed ‘im serve the Queen in a suit
o’ rifle-green,
An’ you’d best go look for a new love.”
“Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did ye see no more o’ my true love?”
“I seed ‘im runnin’ by when the
shots begun to fly—
But you’d best go look for a new love.”
“Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
Did aught take ’arm to my true love?”
“I couldn’t see the fight, for the smoke
it lay so white—
An’ you’d best go look for a new love.”
