Parade Song of the Camp Animals

     ELEPHANTS OF THE GUN TEAMS

     We lent to Alexander 
          the strength of Hercules,
     The wisdom of our foreheads, 
          he cunning of our knees;
     We bowed our necks to service: 
          they ne'er were loosed again,—
     Make way there—way for the ten-foot teams
          Of the Forty-Pounder train!

     GUN BULLOCKS

     Those heroes in their harnesses 
         avoid a cannon-ball,
     And what they know of powder 
         upsets them one and all;
     Then we come into action 
         and tug the guns again—
     Make way there—way 
           for the twenty yoke
           Of the Forty-Pounder train!

     CAVALRY HORSES

     By the brand on my shoulder, 
         the finest of tunes
     Is played by the Lancers, 
         Hussars, and Dragoons,
     And it's sweeter than "Stables" 
         or "Water" to me—
     The Cavalry Canter of 
         "Bonnie Dundee"!

     Then feed us and break us 
         and handle and groom,
     And give us good riders 
         and plenty of room,
     And launch us in column 
         of squadron and see
     The way of the war-horse 
         to "Bonnie Dundee"!

     SCREW-GUN MULES

     As me and my companions 
        were scrambling up a hill,
     The path was lost in rolling stones, 
        but we went forward still;
     For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, 
        and turn up everywhere,
     Oh, it's our delight on a mountain height, 
        with a leg or two to spare!

     Good luck to every sergeant, then, 
        that lets us pick our road;
     Bad luck to all the driver-men 
        that cannot pack a load:
     For we can wriggle and climb, my lads, 
        and turn up everywhere,
     Oh, it's our delight on a mountain height, 
        with a leg or two to spare!

     COMMISSARIAT CAMELS

     We haven't a camelty tune of our own
     To help us trollop along,
     But every neck is a hair trombone
     (Rtt-ta-ta-ta! is a hair trombone!)
     And this our marching-song:
     Can't!  Don't!  Shan't!  Won't!
     Pass it along the line!
     Somebody's pack has slid from his back,
     Wish it were only mine!
     Somebody's load has tipped off in the road—
     Cheer for a halt and a row!
     Urrr!  Yarrh!  Grr!  Arrh!
     Somebody's catching it now!

     ALL THE BEASTS TOGETHER

     Children of the Camp are we,
     Serving each in his degree;
     Children of the yoke and goad,
     Pack and harness, pad and load.
     See our line across the plain,
     Like a heel-rope bent again,
     Reaching, writhing, rolling far,
     Sweeping all away to war!
     While the men that walk beside,
     Dusty, silent, heavy-eyed,
     Cannot tell why we or they
     March and suffer day by day.
        Children of the Camp are we,
        Serving each in his degree;
        Children of the yoke and goad,
        Pack and harness, pad and load!