ck gulp his kvass and usquebaugh;
Let the Prussian grenadier
Swill his dinkle-doonkle beer,
And the Yankee suck his cocktail through a straw,
Through a straw,
And the Yankee suck his cocktail through a straw.

"Let the Ghoorka drink his pugaree and pukka,
Let the Hollander imbibe old schnapps galore.
Tommy Atkins is the chap
Who has broached a better tap,
For he takes his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore.
Blood and gore,
For he takes his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore.

"When at 'ome he may content himself with whisky,
But if once he lands upon a foreign shore--
On the Nile or Irrawady--
He forgets his native toddy,
And he takes his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore.
Blood and gore,
And he takes his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore.

"He's a connoisseur of every foreign vintage,
From the claret of the fat and juicy Boer
To the thicker nigger brand
That he spills upon the sand,
When he draws his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore.
Blood and gore,
When he draws his 'arf-and-'arf in blood and gore."

"Fine, isn't it!" exclaimed Sam's neighbor, the captain, who was
standing by him, as they all joined in hearty applause. "I tell you
Bludyard Stripling ought to be our poet laureate. He's the laureate of
the Empire, at any rate. Why, a song like that binds a nation together.
You haven't any poet like that, have you?"

"No-o," answered Sam, thinking in shame of Shortfellow, Slowell, and
Pittier. "I'm afraid all our poets are old women and don't understand
us soldiers."

"Stripling understands everything," said the captain. "He never makes a
mistake. He is a universal genius."

"I don't think we ever drink cocktails with a straw," ventured Sam.

"Oh, yes, you must. He never makes a mistake. You may be sure that,
before he wrote that, he drank each one of those drinks, one after
another."

"Quite likely," whispered Cleary to Sam, as he came up on the other
side.

"I wish I could hear it sung in Lunnon," said the captain. "A chorus of
duchesses are singing it at one of the biggest music-halls every
evening, and then they pass round their coronets, lined with velvet,
you know, and take up a collection of I don't know how many thou