THE HAT.

Evening Post, Volume LIX, Issue 11, 13 January 1900, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE HAT.

(After Kipling.) Well, we've shouted "Rule Britannia," and wave sung "God Save the Queen," But we hope we weren't a bit before the Fair ; And you have our hearts best wishes for your "little tambourine," For things look mighty awkward over there. Poor Tommy in his kharki duds, instead of red and blue, Has struck a snag that never was intended He has just as big a mouthful as he can possibly chew — And' he'll need that tambourine before its ended. Soldiers, soldiers what ar« you going to do? You've got to swallow all we've bit, so chew, chew, chew. You can't sit down, you can't come back ; you've got to shove ahead. You've got to face the barbed wire, and the lead, lead, lead,

And the gallant Scottish Highland boys iv kilts and tartan green, Never happy but when fighting in the front, Shall fairly share th© contents of that little tambouvine ; For of battle's heat and weight they've borne the brunt. He's a headstrong sort of beggar, that same fighting Highland lad ; That he doesn't leave his petticoat behind him. But the rig he likes to fight in is his own, especial fad, Tho' a target where tho marksmen quickly find him. Sandy, Sandy, you've got your work to do ; You've giot to tramp the burning sand, and ford ths river, too. You've got to do on half a meal and save up all your thirst. And go without your whisky, which is worse, worse, worst. And the Rangers and Fusiliers, from Ei-in's Emerald Isle; Or those girls v and kids that they have left behind them. Those bhoys that storm the ranges in such rattling, slap-dash style, To their credit those same shillings they shall find them? They're all there at rough-and-tumble, those same strapping Irish boys, With the stamp of Tipperary on their chivvy. " Very serious obstructions to Paul Kruger's Christmas joys! And they'll take their little whack from out the diwy. Patsey, Michael, oh, mind what you're about ; If ye cannot thrash the spalpeens, it's a fair knock-out ; Tho' the hides of Boers are thick, lads, faith you can make them feel, When once you're fairly at them with steel, steel, steel. But our soldier boys from Austral's shore, though fighting for the Queen, Same as Tommy, and as Sandy, and as Pat, Will get no share of shillings from your little tambourine, So for them we've started sending round a hat. Just like Tommy and the others I have mentioned up above, They have left a lot of odds and ends behind 'em— AU the wives and kiddies, and othefrs that they love — And they trust to us that's stopped at home to mind 'em. Store hands, factory hands, and chappies well to do, Johnnies .from Society Points and blokes from Woolloomooloo, Oh, we feel tliat wo are brothers, a>nd we sink all class and creed, When we're pulling all together, boys, to help our Empire's need. We're a humble sort of people, as may easily be seen, But our hearts, perhaps, are none the worse for that ; And we've not too many shillings, and we've got no tambourine ; So we'll drop our bobs and coppers in the hat. We've picked and sent tha best men that our oountry could supply, x And we didn't need to hunt about to find 'em ; And when tho fighting's over, and they come back by and by, They'll find we've helped the homes they left behind 'em. We'll think of the weekly rent, the shoes for the kids and that, And all the cash that we can spaje we'll put into the hat. If we each drop our shilling in, the total won't be fat, So we'll ojjen wide our hearts and spare a trifle for the hat. — H. S. Williams. Sydney, 23rd December.