Bless then, our God, the new-yoked plough And the good beasts that draw, And the bread we eat in the sweat of our brow According to Thy Law. After us cometh a multitude-- Prosper the work of our hands, That we may feed with our land’s food The folk of all our lands! Here, in the waves and the troughs of the plains, Where the healing stillness lies, And the vast, benignant sky restrains And the long days make wise-- Bless to our use the rain and the sun And the blind seed in its bed, That we may repair the wrong that was done To the living and the dead! SERVICE SONGS [Page 58] _’Tommy’ you was when it began, But now that it is o’er You shall be called The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore._ _Batt’ry, brigade, flank, centre, van, Defaulter, Army corps-- From first to last The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore._ _From ’Alifax to ’Industan, From York to Singapore-- ’Orse, foot, an’ guns, The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore!_ CHANT-PAGAN [Page 59] ENGLISH IRREGULAR: ’99–02 Me that ’ave been what I’ve been, Me that ’ave gone where I’ve gone, Me that ’ave seen what I’ve seen-- ’Ow can I ever take on With awful old England again, An’ ’ouses both sides of the street, And ’edges two sides of the lane, And the parson an’ ‘gentry’ between, An’ touchin’ my ’at when we meet-- Me that ’ave been what I’ve been? Me that ’ave watched ’arf a world ’Eave up all shiny with dew, Kopje on kop to the sun, An’ as soon as the mist let ’em through Our ’elios winkin’ like fun-- Three sides of a ninety-mile square, Over valleys as big as a shire-- _Are ye there? Are ye there? Are ye there?_ An’ then the blind drum of our fire ... An’ I’m rollin’ ’is lawns for the Squire, Me! Me that ’ave rode through the dark Forty mile often on end, Along the Ma’ollisberg Range, With only the stars for my mark An’ only the night for my friend, An’ things runnin’ off as you pass, An’ things jumpin’ up in the grass, An’ the silence, the shine an’ the size Of the ’igh, inexpressible skies.... I am takin’ some letters almost As much as a mile, to the post, An’ ‘mind you come back with the change!’ Me! Me that saw Barberton took When we dropped through the clouds on their ’ead, An’ they ’ove the guns over and fled-- Me that was through Di’mond ’Ill, An’ Pieters an’ Springs an’ Belfast-- From Dundee to Vereeniging all! Me that stuck out to the last (An’ five bloomin’ bars on my chest)-- I am doin’ my Sunday-school best, By the ’elp of the Squire an’ his wife (Not to mention the ’ousemaid an’ cook), To come in an’ ’ands up an’ be still, An’ honestly work for my bread, My livin’ in that state of life To which it shall please God to call Me!