(Across the bed of the Salt Lake every night from the Supply Depot at
Kangaroo Beach to the firing-line beyond Chocolate Hill, September,
1915.)
The Indian whallahs go up to the hills;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"[10]
They pass by the spot where the gun-cotton kills;
They shiver and huddle--they feel the night chills;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
With creaking and jingle of harness and pack;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
Where the moonlight is white and the shadows are black,
They are climbing the winding and rocky mule-track;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
By the blessing of Allah he's more than one wife;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
He's forbidden the wine which encourages strife,
But you don't like the look of his dangerous knife;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
The picturesque whallah is dusky and spare;
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
A turban he wears with magnificent air,
But he chucks down his pack when it's time for his prayer;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
When his moment arrives he'll be dropped in a hole;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
'Tis Kismet, he says, and beyond his control;
But the dear little houris will comfort his soul;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
The Indian whallahs go up to the hills;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"
They pass by the spot where the gun-cotton kills;
But those who come down carry something that chills;--
"Jhill-o! Johnnie, Jhill-o!"