nger, and never lie low?
So, Sound the Assembly! Blow, Buglemen, blow!
Sound the Assembly!

Sound the Assembly! Form, citizens, form!
From smoke of the city, from country so green,
A horse of irregulars sweeps like a storm
To defend with their lives their dear country and Queen!
Sound the Assembly! Come! Volunteers, come!
Leave oldsters at grinding and tilling the sod!
Bold Yoemen, enrolled for defence of their home,
Enlist with a cheer for the Empire, thank God!--

To the front! to the front! with their faces aglow,
They will march, the dear lads, with a pulse and a go;
Wave flags o'er the Workman, the Johnnie, the Beau,
So, Sound the Assembly! Blow, Buglemen, blow!
Sound the Assembly!

THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR.

BY RUDYARD KIPLING.

When you've shouted "Rule Britannia"--when you've sung "God Save the
Queen"--
When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth--
Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine
For a gentleman in kharki ordered South?
He's an absent-minded beggar and his weaknesses are great--
But we and Paul must take him as we find him--
He is out on active service, wiping something off a slate--
And he's left a lot o' little things behind him!

Duke's son--cook's son--son of a hundred kings--
(Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!)
Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after their
things?)
Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay--pay--pay!

There are girls he married secret, asking no permission to,
For he knew he wouldn't get it if he did.
There is gas and coals and vittles, and the house-rent falling due,
And it's more than rather likely there's a kid.
There are girls he walked with casual, they'll be sorry now he's
gone,
For an absent-minded beggar they will find him;
But it ain't the time for sermons with the winter coming on--
We must help the girl that Tommy's left behind him!

Cook's son--Duke's son--son of a belted Earl--
Son of a Lambeth publican--it's all the same to-day!
Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after the
girl?)
Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay! pay! pay!

There are families by thousands, far too proud to beg or speak--
And they'll put their sticks and bedding up the spout,
And they'll live on half o' nothing paid 'em punctual