We haven't a camelty tune of our own
To help us trollop along,
But every neck is a hair-trombone
(_Rtt-ta-ta-ta_! is a hair-trombone!)
And this is our marching-song:
_Can't! Don't! Shan't! Won't!_
Pass it along the line!
Somebody's pack has slid from his back,
'Wish it were only mine!
Somebody's load has tipped off in the road--
Cheer for a halt and a row!
_Urrr! Yarrh! Grr! Arrh!_
Somebody's catching it now!