ABDUL

We’ve drunk the boys who rushed the hills,The men who stormed the beach,The sappers and the A.S.C.,We’ve had a toast for each;And the guns and stretcher-bearers—But, before the bowl is cool,There’s one chap I’d like to mention,He’s a fellow calledAbdul.We haven’t seen him much of late—Unless it be his hat,Bobbing down behind a loophole ...And we mostly blaze at that;But we hear him wheezing there at nights,Patrolling through the dark,With his signals—hoots and chirrups—Like an early morning lark.We’ve heard the twigs a-crackling,As we crouched upon our knees,And his big, black shape went smashing,Like a rhino, through the trees.We’ve seen him flung in, rank on rank,Across the morning sky;And we’ve had some pretty shooting,And—he knows the way to die.Yes, we’ve seen him dying there in front—Our own boys died there, too—With his poor dark eyes a-rolling,Staring at the hopeless blue;With his poor maimed arms a-stretchingTo the God we both can name ...And it fairly tore our hearts out;But it’s in the beastly game.

We’ve drunk the boys who rushed the hills,

The men who stormed the beach,

The sappers and the A.S.C.,

We’ve had a toast for each;

And the guns and stretcher-bearers—

But, before the bowl is cool,

There’s one chap I’d like to mention,

He’s a fellow calledAbdul.

We haven’t seen him much of late—Unless it be his hat,Bobbing down behind a loophole ...And we mostly blaze at that;But we hear him wheezing there at nights,Patrolling through the dark,With his signals—hoots and chirrups—Like an early morning lark.

We haven’t seen him much of late—

Unless it be his hat,

Bobbing down behind a loophole ...

And we mostly blaze at that;

But we hear him wheezing there at nights,

Patrolling through the dark,

With his signals—hoots and chirrups—

Like an early morning lark.

We’ve heard the twigs a-crackling,As we crouched upon our knees,And his big, black shape went smashing,Like a rhino, through the trees.We’ve seen him flung in, rank on rank,Across the morning sky;And we’ve had some pretty shooting,And—he knows the way to die.

We’ve heard the twigs a-crackling,

As we crouched upon our knees,

And his big, black shape went smashing,

Like a rhino, through the trees.

We’ve seen him flung in, rank on rank,

Across the morning sky;

And we’ve had some pretty shooting,

And—he knows the way to die.

Yes, we’ve seen him dying there in front—Our own boys died there, too—With his poor dark eyes a-rolling,Staring at the hopeless blue;With his poor maimed arms a-stretchingTo the God we both can name ...And it fairly tore our hearts out;But it’s in the beastly game.

Yes, we’ve seen him dying there in front—

Our own boys died there, too—

With his poor dark eyes a-rolling,

Staring at the hopeless blue;

With his poor maimed arms a-stretching

To the God we both can name ...

And it fairly tore our hearts out;

But it’s in the beastly game.

ABDULDrawn by TED COLLES

ABDUL

Drawn by TED COLLES

So though your name be black as inkFor murder and rapine,Carried out in happy concertWith your Christians from the Rhine,Wewill judge you, Mr. Abdul,By the test by whichwecan—That with all your breath, in life, in death,You’ve played the gentleman.C. E. W. B.

So though your name be black as ink

For murder and rapine,

Carried out in happy concert

With your Christians from the Rhine,

Wewill judge you, Mr. Abdul,

By the test by whichwecan—

That with all your breath, in life, in death,

You’ve played the gentleman.

C. E. W. B.

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