Nursery Rhymes for little Anglo-Indians

             1. Hush-a-by, Baby, 
                  In the verandah!
               When the sun drops 
                  Baby may wander. 
              When the hot weather comes 
                  Baby will die-
               With a fine pukka tomb 
                  In the ce-me-te-ry.
              2. I had a little husband
                  Who gave me all his pay. 
               I left him for Mussoorie,  
                  A hundred miles away.
               I dragged my little husband's name 
                  Through heaps of social mire,
               And joined him in October,
                  As good as you'd desire.

 3. 'Ba-Ba-Babu, have you got your will?'
   'Yes Sar, Yes Sar, thanks to the Bill. 
   Four-anna witnesses-plenty telling cram,
And bless the Barra-Lat-Sahib, who says how good I am.']
     4. See-saw, Justice and Law,
            The Raiyats  shall have a new master .
         And the Zemindar  ain't allowed to distraint
            Because they can't pay any faster.
           5. Sing a Song of Sixpence, 
                  Purchased by our lives­
               Decent English Gentlemen 
                  Roasting with their wives
               In the plains of India 
                  Where like flies they die.
               Isn't that a wholesome risk 
                  To get our living by ?
               The fever's in the Jungle, 
                  The typhoid's in the tank,
               And men may catch the cholera 
                  Apart from social rank;
               And Death is in the Garden, 
                  A-waiting till we pass,
               For the Krait  is in the drain-pipe, 
                  The Cobra in the grass!
             6. With a lady flirt a little­ 
                    'Tis manners so to do.
                  Of a lady speak but little­
                     'Tis safest so to do.
           7. Jack's own Jill goes up to the Hill
                  Of Murree or Chakrata. 
               Jack remains, and dies in the plains, 
                  And Jill remarries soon arter.
           8. Mary, Mary, quite contrary, 
                  Where do your subalterns go?
               For love is brief and the next 'relief ' 
                  Will scatter them all like snow.

(Rhyme 3. above was included in Echoes, but 
not in the later collected editions.)

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