The Volunteer's Lament.

Observer, Volume XVI, Issue 948, 27 February 1897, Page 20

The Volunteer's Lament.

You must. ante up, my comrades, yon must save the revenue, You must bleed to save your country, but it mustn't bleed for you ; You must sacrifice your leisure, you must sacrifice your health, To guard the Fat Man's treasure and the miser's hoarded wealth. Though in peace they may despise you, though they grudge the smallest dole, They will cheer you on to battle if the drams begin to roll. If the foeman chance to pink you, if you happen to get shot, You'll be mentioned in the papers as a noble patriot ; ■ But instead of volunteering, if you'll be advised by me, You'll go and join the members of the Peace Societee.

HE DIDN'T WIN THE BELT,

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I was happy and contented in an unpretending way— I thirsted not for glory nor excitement of the fray; . " . I was earning at the tailoring three quid or so a week, The bubble reputation I felt no desire to seek. As a man of peace, all bloodshed and disturbance I abborr'd - I had no wish to relinquish the needle for the sword ; I was working late and early, I had money in a bank. And I meant to marry Mary if I hadn't been a crank. But I met a pal o' mine one night, and over sundry beers, I was humbugged Into joining the Auckland Volunteers. He assured me, in the intervals of putting down the beer, That nature had designed me for a martial career ; He praised my fine physique (I am only 5 feet 4), And swore I'd be an ornament to any gallant corps. He said that when I put 'em on I'd cut a splendid dash, And all the girls of Auckland in my uniform I'd mash ; And, gazing most intently in my eye, he said I'd got AU the necessary qualities to make a champion shot. In shore, his smooto persuasion dissipated all my fears, And 1 'listen as a private in the Auckland Volunteers. 'Twas not all beer and skitties, as I very soon found out, For tne fun of volunteering isn't all you read about ; It isn't merely strutting in a silly masquerade — If you want to be a soldier, you must learn the soldier's trade. You may fancy you're a hero, you may try to put on frills. J But you've got to work in earnest when you're going through your drills ; You must earn your capitation— you may have to earn it twice; If you serve jour wooming country, you must make some sacrifice ; And perhaps when you have served it for ten or twenty years. You may only be a private in the Auckland Volunteers. I didn't mind the drills so much till they sent us into camp, And the rain came down in torrents, and the ground was cold and damp ; Theu rneumatiam seized me with its cruel aches and chills, And I spent my nitle savings in defraying ducturb' ulUa ; And after mouths of agony, like one upon the rack, The boss had filled my billet up and given me the sacK. But, worst of all the strokes of fate, my Mary — fic&lejade — Was married to another bloke, a sweater in the trade. She said she couldn't afford to wait for me for years and years, When I'd rumed my health and prospects in the Auckland Volunteers. But when I had recovered from the suffering and the pain, To the fatai martial spirit I became a prey again; * J For me tempter, who allured me first to leave the pauid of peace, Appealed to my ambition with a cunning artifice. He talked about ' pot-hunting,' and the prizes to be won At the annual rifle matches by a shootist, with a gun. How me fatal passion seized me ! What a glow of pride I felt, AS of theßelt 11"16 *" 1 * SaW mysel£ the win &er And listened to the speeches, and the music. and the cheers, When I carried back the trophy to the Auckland Volunteers. Then I went into hard training to prepare for the ordeal, Abandoned every luxury, and grudged myself a rneai ; I refrained from beer and whisky, I abjured the soothing pipe— If you want to be a shootist, you must neither smoke nor swipe. Your eyesight must be clear, you must have a steady hand, You must keep your nervous system always under firm command ; You must have no torpid liver, and your stomach must be right ; You must give up every luxury that's likely to excite ; And if nothing unexpected with your shooting interferes, You may prove a worthy member of the Auckland Volunteers. With a few preliminaries you must first, per* force, comply — Pay ten bob for your entrance fee your ammunition buy; * You'll get a pass to travel on the public railways free, But you'll have to pay your passage if you have to go by sea ; You must pay your board and lodging and expenses by the way, b And at your destination whatever time you stay ; And then if you are lucky, you may win a pound or two, And If you don't, it's nothing to a millionaire like you. You must part, my brave defender, 'tis auch sacrifice endears The eervice to the members of the Auckland Volunteers.