With the Serbs in Macedonia

230 WITH THE SERBS IN MACEDONIA
We turns up our nose at 'is liquor,
*E don't give a dam' for our beer,
! But, by gum in a scrap 'e's a sticker ;
We know 'ow 'e took Monastir !
'E puts 'is boots over 'is putties,
'E sings like a tom-cat at night.
But 'e'd give us 'is shirt or lie down in the dirt,
Though 'e shaves 'isself less than *e might.
It's orkard the way 'e is smitten,
The rummy affeckshunate cuss.
On ev'rything coming from Britain ;
It's orkard— dam' orkard— for us !
'E's made us a sort of a Hidol,
So, as pals we must humour his whim.
'E thinks we're a saint, and we know that we ain't,
But we 'as to be while we're with 'im !
'Ere's to 'im, the soft-'earted blighter !
'Ere's to 'im, the son of a gun !
'E's " dobro " as friend and as fighter ;
'E's second to abserloot none !
'Ere's to 'im, the grinning old cuckoo.
And the day we pump-'andle 'is 'and.
An' bid 'im good-bye with a tear in the eye.
On the soil of 'is own native land !