An’ when there wasn’t aught to do But camp and cattle-guards, I’ve fought with ’im the ’ole day through At fifteen ’undred yards; Long afternoons o’ lyin’ still, An’ ’earin’ as you lay The bullets swish from ’ill to ’ill Like scythes among the ’ay. Ah there, Piet!--be’ind ’is stony kop, With ’is Boer bread an’ biltong, an’ ’is flask of awful Dop; ’Is Mauser for amusement an’ ’is pony for retreat, I’ve known a lot o’ fellers shoot a dam’ sight worse than Piet. He’s shoved ’is rifle ’neath my nose Before I’d time to think, An’ borrowed all my Sunday clo’es An’ sent me ’ome in pink; An’ I ’ave crept (Lord, ’ow I’ve crept!) On ’ands an’ knees I’ve gone, And spoored and floored and caught and kept An’ sent him to Ceylon! Ah there, Piet!--you’ve sold me many a pup, When week on week alternate it was you an’ me ‘’ands up!’ But though I never made _you_ walk man-naked in the ’eat, I’ve known a lot of fellows stalk a dam’ sight worse than Piet. From Plewman’s to Marabastad, From Ookiep to De Aar, Me an’ my trusty friend ’ave ’ad, As you might say, a war; But seein’ what both parties done Before ’e owned defeat, I ain’t more proud of ’avin’ won, Than I am pleased with Piet. Ah there, Piet!--picked up be’ind the drive! The wonder wasn’t ’ow ’e fought, but ’ow ’e kep’ alive, With nothin’ in ’is belly, on ’is back, or to ’is feet-- I’ve known a lot o’ men behave a dam’ sight worse than Piet. No more I’ll ’ear ’is rifle crack Along the block’ouse fence-- The beggar’s on the peaceful tack, Regardless of expense. For countin’ what ’e eats an’ draws, An’ gifts an’ loans as well, ’E’s gettin’ ’alf the Earth, because ’E didn’t give us ’Ell! Ah there, Piet! with your brand-new English plough, Your gratis tents an’ cattle, an’ your most ungrateful frow. You’ve made the British taxpayer rebuild your country-seat-- I’ve known some pet battalions charge a dam’ sight less than Piet. ‘WILFUL-MISSING’ [Page 110] There is a world outside the one you know, To which for curiousness ’Ell can’t compare-- It is the place where ‘wilful-missings’ go, As we can testify, for we are there. You may ’ave read a bullet laid us low, That we was gathered in ‘with reverent care’ And buried proper. But it was not so, As we can testify, for we are there. They can’t be certain--faces alter so After the old aasvogel’s ’ad ’is share; The uniform’s the mark by which they go-- And--ain’t it odd?--the one we best can spare. We might ’ave seen our chance to cut the show-- Name, number, record, an’ begin elsewhere-- Leavin’ some not too late-lamented foe One funeral--private--British--for ’is share.