Selected Poetry.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXX, Issue 1521, 5 July 1898, Page 5

Selected Poetry.

MY MOTHER LODGE.

There was Bundle, Station Master, An' Beazeley of the Bail, Au' Achman, Commissariat, An' Donkin o' the Gaol ; An' Bluke ; Conductor Sargeent— Our master twice was 'e, With Mm that kept the Europe shop, Ol'l Framjee Edu jae. Outside—"Sergjant ! Sii ! Salute! Saliatn !" Inside—" Brother " au' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the Level au' we parted on the Square, An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there. There was Bola Nath, accountant, And Saul, the Adea Jew, An' Din Mahomed, draughtsman, Of the Survey office, too. There was Babu Chicekerhitty, An' Amir Sins»h, the Sikh, An' Castro of the- rittiu'^sheds--, A Roman Catholic. We 'adn't good regaiia. An' our Lodge was old an' bare ; But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, An' we kept 'em to a hair. An' lookiu' ou it backwards, ft often strikes me thus : There ain't such things as 'eathen now, Except, per'aps it's us, For monthly ;if;er Labor We'll all sit down an' frmoke (We daren't give no banquets Lest a Brothei's caste were broke), An' man and man got bukkin Religiou an' the rest, An' every man comparin' Of the God he knowed the best. So man on man got started, An' not a beggar stirred Till mornin' waked the parrots An' that dam' braic-fever bird. We'd say 'twas v. ry curious, An' we'd all go 'ome to bed With Mahomed, God, an' Shira Changiu' pickets in our 'ead. Full oft ou Gov'ment service This wanderin' foot 'ath pressed, An' bore fraternal greetin's To the Lodges East and West, Accordin' as commanded, From Ko'at to Singapore ; But I wish that I might see them In my Mother Lodge once more. I wish that I might see them, My Brethren white and brown, With the burlies smellin' pleasant, An' the ay-dan passin' down, An' the old Khansannah snoriu' On the bottle-Klnma floor, Like a brother in good standing With my Mother Lodge once more. Outside—"Sergeant! Sir ! Salute! Salaam!" Inside—" Brother," an' it doesn't do no 'arm. We met upon the level an' we parted on the Square, Au' 1 was Junior [Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there, Rudyard Kipling,