Then Britons, be careful, the moral is clear; The ox is Old England, the frog is Monsieur, Whose threats and bravadoes we never need fear, While we have Roast Beef in Old England. Sing O for Old England’s Roast Beef. ANONYMOUS. ―――― THE BOILED BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND. That mighty Roast Beef was the Englishman’s food, And spoon-meat the Frenchman’s was once understood, And mess-bugles at dinner-time still stir the blood, With “Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England, And Oh, for Old English Roast Beef.” Yes, “Oh, for Roast Beef,” well our soldiers may sigh, They may sniff it down areas, in cook-shops may eye; But save in that music, bid life-long good bye, To the famous Roast Beef of Old England, The mighty Old English Roast Beef. For as if we’d ta’en lesson from soup-stewing France, In our barracks Roast Beef is a dream of romance, And the man who enlists is condemned in advance, To sing, “Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,” And “Blow that Old English Boiled Beef!” If against civil broils barrack-rules still must preach, And our troops rule the roast, but in figure of speech, Then surely we’re bound our mess-bugles to teach To play “Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,” And “Blow the Old English Boiled Beef!” What’s the odds if at _Bouilli_ the soldier looks blue? ’Tis the rule of the service, and can’t be broke through. Against roast, fry, or bake Colonel North in a stew Would cry, “Where’s the Boiled Beef of Old England, Oh, where’s the Old English Boiled Beef?” What with those leather collars, their throttles that lock, And those weary camp-kettles, their hunger that mock, Our poor British soldiers must surely hate _stock_, And sing, “Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England, Oh, Blow the Old English Boiled Beef!” With the shako that lets the rain into his neck, And the pack, pouch, and cross-belts, his breathing that check, And the barrack-room reeking like any slave-deck, Keep up the Boiled Beef of Old England. Keep up the Old English Boiled Beef. At huge cost let recruits still be drilled, dressed, and taught, To have them die off twice as fast as they ought, Let General Routine still set reason at nought, And sing, “Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,” And “Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef!” By all means let our soldiers be served, in the way, That famed Dr. Kitch’ner said cucumbers may, First dress ’em with care, and then throw them away, And sing, “Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,” And “Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef!” _Punch._ March 6, 1858.