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lirik lagu richard mitchley - arthur conan doyle - empire builders

captain temple, d.s.o.,
with his banjo and retriever
“rough, i know, on poor old flo
but, by jove! i couldn’t leave her.”
niger ribbon on his breast
in his blood the niger fever
captain temple, d.s.o.,
with his banjo and retriever

cox of the politicals
with his cigarette and glasses
sk!lled in pushtoo gutturals
odd~job man among the passes
keeper of the zakka khels
tutor of the khaiber ghazis
cox of the politicals
with his cigarette and glasses

mr. hawkins, junior sub.,
late of woolwich and thames ditton
thinks his battery the hub
of the whole wide orb of britain
half a hero, half a cub
lithe and playful as a kitten
mr. hawkins, junior sub.,
late of woolwich and thames ditton
eighty tommies, big and small
grumbling hard as is their habit
“say, mate, what’s a bunerwal?”
“sometime like a bloomin’ rabbit.”
“got to hoof it to chitral!”
“blarst ye, did ye think to cab it!”
eighty tommies, big and small
grumbling hard as is their habit

swarthy goorkhas, short and stout
merry children, laughing, crowing
don’t know what it’s all about
don’t know any use in knowing;
only know they mean to go
where the sirdar thinks of going
little goorkhas, brown and stout
merry children, laughing, crowing

funjaub rifles, fit and trim
curly whiskered sons of battle
very dignified and prim
till they hear the jezails rattle;
cattle thieves of yesterday
now the wardens of the cattle
fighting brahmins of lahore
curly whiskered sons of battle
up the winding mountain path
see the long~drawn column go;
himalayan aftermath
lying rosy on the snow
motley ministers of wrath
building better than they know
in the rosy aftermath
trailing upward to the snow

- lirik lagu richard mitchley

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