[Recruiting in country districts is languishing because the
folk hear nothing of their regiments, and local attachment is
very strong. Unfortunately this ballad had to be founded on
material supplied by the C----r. However, the permitted
references to Germans ought at any rate to convince the public
that the ballad has no connection whatever with the late Boer
War.]
This is the tale of the Blankshires bold, the famous charge they
made;
This is the tale of the deeds they did whose glory never will fade;
They only numbered _X_ hundred men and the German were thousands
(_Y_),
Yet on the battlefield of _Z_ they made the foeman fly.
Calm and cool on the field they stood (near a town--I can't say
where);
Some of them hugged their rifles close but none of them turned a
hair;
The Colonel (I must suppress his name) looked out on the stubborn
foe,
And said, "My lads, we must drive them hence, else _A_ + _B_ will
go."
Then each man looked in his neighbour's face and laughed with sudden
glee
(The Briton fights his very best for algebra's formulae);
The hostile guns barked loud and sharp (their number I cannot
give),
And no one deemed the Blankety Blanks could face that fire and
live.
For Colonel O. was struck by a shell and wounded was Major Q.,
And half a hostile army corps came suddenly into view;
And hidden guns spat death at them and airmen hovered to kill,
But the Blankety Blanks just opened their ranks and charged an
(unnamed) hill.
Half of their number fell on the hill ere they reached the German
trench;
General J---- cried out: "Tres bon"; "Not half," said Marshal
F----;
An angry Emperor shook his fist and at his legions raved,
And then (the C----r lets me say) the cheery Blankshires shaved.
Rally, O rally, ye Blankshire men, rally to fill the gaps;
Seek victories (all unknown to us), bear (well-suppressed) mishaps;
And when you've made a gallant charge and pierced the angry foe
Your names won't get to your people at home, but BUCKMASTER will
know.
* * * * *