Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather,
Ride, follow the fox if you can!
But, for pleasure and profit together,
Allow me the hunting of Man—
The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul
To its ruin—the hunting of Man.
The Old Shikarri
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1 THE Injian Ocean sets an’ smiles So sof’, so bright, so bloomin’ blue; There aren’t a wave for miles an’ miles Excep’ the jiggle from the screw. The ship is swep’, the day is done, The bugle’s gone for smoke and play; An’ black agin’ the settin’ sun The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!” Refrain For to admire an’ for to see, For to be’old this world so wide— It never done no good to me, But I can’t drop it if I tried! 2 I see the sergeants pitchin’ quoits, I ’ear the women laugh an’ talk, I spy upon the quarter-deck The orficers an’ lydies walk. I thinks about the things that was, An’ leans an’ looks acrost the sea, Till spite of all the crowded ship There’s no one lef’ alive but me. 3 The things that was which I ’ave seen, In barrick, camp, an’ action too, I tells them over by myself, An’ sometimes wonders if they’re true; For they was odd—most awful odd— But all the same now they are o’er, There must be ’eaps o’ plenty such, An’ if I wait I’ll see some more. 4 Oh, I ’ave come upon the books, An’ frequent broke a barrick rule, An’ stood beside an’ watched myself Be’avin’ like a bloomin’ fool. I paid my price for findin’ out, Nor never grutched the price I paid, But sat in Clink without my boots, Admirin’ ’ow the world was made. 5 Be’old a crowd upon the beam, An’ ’umped above the sea appears Old Aden, like a barrick-stove That no one’s lit for years an’ years! I passed by that when I began, An’ I go ’ome the road I came, A time-expired soldier-man With six years’ service to ’is name. 6 My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” My mother ’eld me to ’er breast. They’ve never written none, an’ so They must ’ave gone with all the rest— With all the rest which I ’ave seen An’ found an’ known an’ met along. I cannot say the things I feel, And so I sing my evenin’ song: Refrain For to admire an’ for to see, For to be’old this world so wide— It never done no good to me, But I can’t drop it if I tried!
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For our white and our excellent nights—for the nights of swift running,
Fair ranging, far seeing, good hunting, sure cunning!
For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed!
For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started!
For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is standing at bay!
For the risk and the riot of night!
For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day!
It is met, and we go to the fight. Bay! O bay!
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For all we have and are,
For all our children’s fate,
Stand up and take the war.
The Hun is at the gate!
Our world has passed away
In wantonness o’erthrown.
There is nothing left to-day
But steel and fire and stone!
Though all we knew depart,
The old Commandments stand—
“In courage keep your heart,
In strength lift up your hand.”
Once more we hear the word
That sickened earth of old:—
“No law except the Sword
Unsheathed and uncontrolled.”
Once more it knits mankind
Once more the nations go
To meet and break and bind
A crazed and driven foe.
Comfort, content, delight,
The ages’ slow-bought gain,
They shrivelled in a night.
Only ourselves remain
To face the naked days
In silent fortitude,
Through perils and dismays
Renewed and re-renewed.
Though all we made depart,
The old Commandments stand:—
“In patience keep your heart,
In strength lift up your hand.”
No easy hope or lies
Shall bring us to our goal,
But iron sacrifice
Of body, will, and soul.
There is but one task for all—
One life for each to give.
What stands if Freedom fall?
Who dies if England live?
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Dark children of the mere and marsh, Wallow and waste and lea, Outcaste they wait at the village gate With folk of low degree. Their pasture is in no man's land, Their food the cattle's scorn; Their rest is mire and their desire The thicket and the thorn. But woe to those that break their sleep, And woe to those that dare To rouse the herd-bull from his keep, The wild boar from his lair!
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“For three things the earth is disquieted,
and for four which it cannot bear.
For a servant when he reigneth,
and a fool when he is filled with meat;
for an odious woman when she is married,
and an handmaid that is heir to her mistress.”
(Proverbs 30,21-23)
Three things make earth unquiet And four she cannot brook The godly Agur counted them And put them in a book– Those Four Tremendous Curses With which mankind is cursed; But a Servant when He Reigneth Old Agur entered first. An Handmaid that is Mistress We need not call upon. A Fool when he is full of Meat Will fall asleep anon. An Odious Woman Married May bear a babe and mend; But a Servant when He Reigneth Is Confusion to the end. His feet are swift to tumult, His hands are slow to toil, His ears are deaf to reason, His lips are loud in broil. He knows no use for power Except to show his might. He gives no heed to judgment Unless it prove him right. Because he served a master Before his Kingship came, And hid in all disaster Behind his master's name, So, when his Folly opens The unnecessary hells, A Servant when He Reigneth Throws the blame on some one else. His vows are lightly spoken, His faith is hard to bind, His trust is easy broken, He fears his fellow-kind. The nearest mob will move him To break the pledge he gave– Oh, a Servant when He Reigneth Is more than ever slave!
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1 Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my song, The honourable gentlemen have suffered grievous wrong. 2 Their noble names were mentioned—O the burning black disgrace!— By a brutal Saxon paper in an Irish shooting-case; They sat upon it for a year, then steeled their heart to brave it, And “coruscating innocence” the learned Judges gave it. 3 Bear witness, Heaven, of that grim crime beneath the surgeon’s knife, The honourable gentlemen deplored the loss of life! Bear witness of those chanting choirs that burke and shirk and snigger, No man laid hand upon the knife or finger to the trigger! 4 Cleared in the face of all mankind beneath the winking skies, Like phœnixes from Phœnix Park (and what lay there) they rise! Go shout it to the emerald seas—give word to Erin now, Her honourable gentlemen are cleared—and this is how:— 5 They only paid the Moonlighter his cattle-hocking price, They only helped the murderer with counsel’s best advice, But—sure it keeps their honour white—the learned Court believes They never gave a piece of plate to murderers and thieves. 6 They never told the ramping crowd to card a woman’s hide, They never marked a man for death—what fault of theirs he died?— They only said “intimidate”, and talked and went away— By God, the boys that did the work were braver men than they! 7 Their sin it was that fed the fire—small blame to them that heard— The “bhoys” get drunk on rhetoric, and madden at a word— They knew whom they were talking at, if they were Irish too, The gentlemen that lied in Court, they knew, and well they knew. 8 They only took the Judas-gold from Fenians out of jail, They only fawned for dollars on the blood-dyed Clan-na-Gael. If black is black or white is white, in black and white it’s down, They’re only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown. 9 “Cleared”, honourable gentlemen! Be thankful it’s no more:— The widow’s curse is on your house, the dead are at your door. On you the shame of open shame, on you from North to South The hand of every honest man flat-heeled across your mouth. 10 “Less black than we were painted”?—Faith, no word of black was said; The lightest touch was human blood, and that, you know, runs red. It’s sticking to your fist to-day for all your sneer and scoff, And by the Judge’s well-weighed word you cannot wipe it off. 11 Hold up those hands of innocence—go, scare your sheep together, The blundering, tripping tups that bleat behind the old bell-wether; And if they snuff the taint and break to find another pen, Tell them it’s tar that glistens so, and daub them yours again! 12 “The charge is old”?—As old as Cain—as fresh as yesterday; Old as the Ten Commandments—have ye talked those laws away? If words are words, or death is death, or powder sends the ball, You spoke the words that sped the shot—the curse be on you all. 13 “Our friends believe”?—Of course they do—as sheltered women may; But have they seen the shrieking soul ripped from the quivering clay? They!—If their own front door is shut, they’ll swear the whole world’s warm; What do they know of dread of death or hanging fear of harm? 14 The secret half a county keeps, the whisper in the lane, The shriek that tells the shot went home behind the broken pane, The dry blood crisping in the sun that scares the honest bees, And shows the “bhoys” have heard your talk—what do they know of these? 15 But you—you know—ay, ten times more; the secrets of the dead, Black terror on the country-side by word and whisper bred, The mangled stallion’s scream at night, the tail-cropped heifer’s low. Who set the whisper going first? You know, and well you know! 16 My soul! I’d sooner lie in jail for murder plain and straight, Pure crime I’d done with my own hand for money, lust, or hate, Than take a seat in Parliament by fellow-felons cheered, While one of those “not provens” proved me cleared as you are cleared. 17 Cleared—you that “lost” the League accounts—go, guard our honour still, Go, help to make our country’s laws that broke God’s law at will— One hand stuck out behind the back, to signal “strike again”; The other on your dress-shirt-front to show your heart is clane. 18 If black is black or white is white, in black and white it’s down, You’re only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown. If print is print or words are words, the learned Court perpends:— We are not ruled by murderers, but only—by their friends.
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China-going P. & O.'s Pass Pau Amma's playground close, And his Pusat Tasek lies Near the track of most B.I.'s. N.Y.K. and N.D.L. Know Pau Amma's home as well As the Fisher of the Sea knows " Bens," M.M.'s and Rubattinos. But (and this is rather queer) A.T.L.'s can not come here; O. and O. and D.O.A. Must go round another way. Orient, Anchor, Bibby, Hall, Never go that way at all. U.C.S. would have a fit If it found itself on it. And if " Beavers " took their cargoes To Penang instead of Lagos, Or a fat Shaw-Savill bore Passengers to Singapore, Or a White Star were to try a Little trip to Sourabaya, Or a B.S.A. went on Past Natal to Cheribon, Then great Mr. Lloyds would come With a wire and drag them home. You'll know what my riddle means When you've eaten mangosteens.
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1 IN the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise – An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade, With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes – At Blenheim and Ramillies fops would confess They were pierced to the heart by the charms of Brown Bess. 2 Though her sight was not long and her weight was not small, Yet her actions were winning, her language was clear; And everyone bowed as she opened the ball On the arm of some high-gaitered, grim grenadier. Half Europe admitted the striking success Of the dances and routs that were given by Brown Bess. 3 When ruffles were turned into stiff leather stocks, And people wore pigtails instead of perukes, Brown Bess never altered her iron-grey locks. She knew she was valued for more than her looks. "Oh, powder and patches was always my dress, And I think am killing enough," said Brown Bess. 4 So she followed her red-coats, whatever they did, From the heights of Quebec to the plains of Assaye, From Gibraltar to Acre, Cape Town and Madrid, And nothing about her was changed on the way; (But most of the Empire which now we possess Was won through those years by old-fashioned Brown Bess.) 5 In stubborn retreat or in stately advance, From the Portugal coast to the cork-woods of Spain, She had puzzled some excellent Marshals of France Till none of them wanted to meet her again: But later, near Brussels, Napoleon - no less – Arranged for a Waterloo ball with Brown Bess. 6 She had danced till the dawn of that terrible day – She danced till the dusk of more terrible night, And before her linked squares his battalions gave way, And her long fierce quadrilles put his lancers to flight: And when his gilt carriage drove off in the press, "I have danced my last dance for the world!" said Brown Bess. 7 If you go to Museums – there's one in Whitehall – Where old weapons are shown with their names writ beneath, You will find her, upstanding, her back to the wall, As stiff as a ramrod, the flint in her teeth. And if ever we English had reason to bless Any arm save our mothers', that arm is Brown Bess! David Rogers has arranged the poem as a song:
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1 March! The mud is cakin’ good about our trousies. Front!—eyes front, an’ watch the Colour-casin’s drip. Front! The faces of the women in the ’ouses Ain’t the kind o’ things to take aboard the ship. Refrain Cheer! An’ we’ll never march to victory. The Large Birds o’ Prey They will carry us away, An’ you’ll never see your soldiers any more! 2 Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we’re goin’ round a corner. Time!—mark time, an’ let the men be’ind us close. Lord! the transport’s full, an’ ’alf our lot not on ’er— Cheer, O cheer! We’re going off where no one knows. 3 March! The Devil’s none so black as ’e is painted! Cheer! We’ll ’ave some fun before we’re put away. ’Alt, an’ ’and ’er out—a woman’s gone and fainted! Cheer! Get on—Gawd ’elp the married men to-day! 4 Hoi! Come up, you ’ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. (’Ear them say they want their tea, an’ want it quick!) You won’t have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow— No; you’ll put the ’tween-decks stove out, bein’ sick! 5 ’Alt! The married kit ’as all to go before us! ’Course it’s blocked the bloomin’ gangway up again! Cheer, O cheer the ’Orse Guards watchin’ tender o’er us, Keepin’ us since eight this mornin’ in the rain! 6 Stuck in ’eavy marchin’-order, sopped and wringin’— Sick, before our time to watch ’er ’eave an’ fall, ’Ere’s your ’appy ’ome at last, an’ stop your singin’. ’Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! Ending Cheer! For we’ll never live to see no bloomin’ victory! Cheer! An’ we’ll never live to ’ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) The jackal an’ the kite ’Ave an ’ealthy appetite, An’ you’ll never see your soldiers any more! (’Ip! Urroar!) The eagle an’ the crow They are waitin’ ever so, An’ you’ll never see your soldiers any more! (’Ip! Urroar!) Yes, the Large Birds o’ Prey They will carry us away, An’ you’ll never see your soldiers any more!
Reading Aloud
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