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The Kia ora coo-ee : the magazine for the ANZACS in the Middle East, 1918



On The Road To Helouan,
Riding by the Nile-
Spurs a-jingle, veins a-tingle,
Prancing it in style;
Bits a-champing, laughter ramping,
Every smile a mile—
Gad! We were a merry crowd,
Such a romping, very crowd,
Such a "do and derry" crowd.
Riding by the Nile.

On the sea to Sari Bair,
And the Dardanelles—
Guns a thund'ring, blunt folt blund'ring
Through the Turkish shells.
Ranks a-thinning, yet a-grinning
In a thousand hells— O!
We were an eerie crowd,
Gaunt and grim, a weary crowd,
Yet a dev'lish cheery crowd.
In the Dardanelles.

On the road to El Arish,
And the Holy Land—
Thirsting, dursting,
"Jacko" worstlng
O'er the roasting sand;
Odds a-taking, records breaking
Kind o' underhand—
Such a "world-forsaken" crowd,
Dog-tired yet unshaken crowd,
A fearless and hard-baken crowd
In the Holy Land.

On the road to Jericho
Thence right up to Moab—
Bogged in cloudland and in ploughed land.
Acting up to Job;
Sleep-forgetting, grim blood-letting
Steel the only probe—
Where a grander daring crowd,
A hard-pressed, less despairing crowd,
A sterner Easter-faring crowd,
Than pierced the hills of Moab?

On the road that wanders back,
Back beside the Nile—
With many a grave to fringe the track.
And many a blood-drenched mile;
And many an old camp lonely grown
For many a passed-on life—
God! O will they ever know
All the silent derring-do,
All the deeds without the "show"
All the gallant mates laid low Since we romped to Helouan,
Riding by the Nile?