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| At times when under cover I ’ave said, |
86 |
| Files, |
17 |
| God of our fathers, known of old, |
121 |
| ‘Here is nothing new nor aught unproven’ say the Trumpets, |
1 |
| Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run, |
53 |
| I do not love my Empire’s foes, |
104 |
| I wish my mother could see me now, with a fence-post under my arm, |
64 |
| Let us admit it fairly, as a business people should, |
13 |
| Lived a woman wonderful, |
49 |
| Me that ’ave been what I’ve been, |
59 |
| No doubt but ye are the People—your throne is above the King’s, |
31 |
| Not in the camp his victory lies, |
23 |
| Only two African kopjes, |
82 |
| Out o’ the wilderness, dusty an’ dry, |
72 |
| Peace is declared, an’ I return, |
117 |
| Smells are surer than sounds or sights, |
95 |
| Sudden the desert changes, |
8 |
| The bachelor ’e fights for one, |
91 |
| The General ’eard the firin’ on the flank, |
98 |
| There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may, |
113 |
| There is a world outside the one you know, |
110 |
| The Word came down to Dives in Torment where he lay, |
40 |
| We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa! |
88 |
| We’ve rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations come to hand, |
77 |
| When by the labour of my ’ands, |
102 |
| Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order, |
26 |
