My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, Hong-Kong and Peshawur, Lucknow and Etawah, And fifty-five more all endin' in “pore”. Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, But I'm old and I'm nervis, I'm cast from the Service, And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. (Chorus) Shillin' a day, Bloomin' good pay-- Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, When we rode Hell-for-leather Both squadrons together, That didn't care whether we lived or we died. But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, So if me you be'old In the wet and the cold, By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter-- 'Can't do no better, Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'--runs with a letter! Think what 'e's been, Think what 'e's seen, Think of his pension an'---- Gawd save the Queen. Second Series (1896) 'Bobs' There's a little red-faced man, Which is Bobs, Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- Our Bobs, If it bucks or kicks or rears, 'E can sit for twenty years With a smile round both 'is ears- Can't yer, Bobs? Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! 'E's our pukka Kandahader- Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; 'E's the man that done us well, An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- Won't we Bobs? If a limber's slipped a trace, 'Ook on Bobs. If a marker's lost 'is place, Dress by Bobs. For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, An' a bugle in 'is throat, An' you will not play the goat Under Bobs. 'E's a little down on drink, Chaplain Bobs; But it keeps us outer Clink- Don't it Bobs? So we will not complain Tho' 'e's water on the brain, If 'e leads us straight again- Blue-light Bobs. If you stood 'im on 'is head Father Bobs, You could spill a quart o' lead Outer Bobs. 'E's been at it thirty years, An' amassin' souveneers In the way o' slugs an' spears- Ain't yer, Bobs? What 'e does not Know o' war, Gen'ral Bobs, You can arst the shop next door- Can't they, Bobs? Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; 'E's a terror for 'is size, An'-'e-does-not-advertise- Do yer, Bobs? Now they've made a bloomin' Lord Outer Bobs, Which was but 'is fair reward- Weren't it Bobs? So 'e'll wear a coronet Where 'is 'elmet used to set; But we know you won't forget- Will yer, Bobs?