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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 80a

Tommy on Strike

page 9

Tommy on Strike.

Melbourne.

According to the "Argus," there is something approaching a strike likely to take place among the troops ordered to parade in connection with the Royal visit. The pay has been fixed at 4s. 6d. a day, with 2s. allowance for lunch. The men claim the full rate which is usually allowed for parades—8s. a day—and two battalions of infantry and two of artillery are arranging not to parade unless that rate is given them.—Daily Paper.

"We re as loyal as can be,
But we never will agree
To four-and-six a day—
A Chinkee's rate of pay!

"But if you'll make it eight,
Then we'll not hesitate,
Without the least rebuke,
To wait upon the Duke.

"But if you cannot fix
Up more than four-and-six
We'll straightway get the spike
And go out on the strike.

"As soldiers of the King
We'll graft like anything—
If you will make it eight—
A sum what's adequate.

"But if you cut up rough.
Call four-and-six enough,
Then you can take the tip,
We're going to let him rip.

"Of course the Son and Heir
Will curse and he will swear
To think lie's miss'd the 'bus
And Us, Us, Us, Us, Us!"

"We are Britons to the core,
As, p'rhaps, you knew before,
But, by the great De Wet,
We're not the sorts to sweat!

"We want our pound of flesh
To join in that procesh.
If you won't give it—Well,
You can go to—Cape Farewell!"

Says Handrew to Dave Fisher,
"'Ave yer 'card the latest noos?
We'll 'ave to break it gently
To Flockton, Field, and Crewes.
They're wanting Us in Melbourne,
'Cause there's going ter be a strike
Among the milingtary,
What's got the bloomin' spike!

"Can't yer 'ear old 'Opetown callin'
Acrost the Tasman Sea?
It's 'David!' and it's 'Handrew!'
Why, that's just You and Me!
So th' Court of Harbetrashun
Will have ter pack an' fly;
We'll leave the Napier painter blokes
Till the sweet by-am-bye."

"Can't yer 'ear old 'Opetown callin'
Acrost th' bloomin' Straits?
'E knows We patches up deesputes
W'ile hall th' parties waits.
Hi think th' trip 'II do Us good—
What's this 'ere cable say?
'You've been too late in starling.
We've fixed them up. Hooray!"'

* * * * *

Then Handrew says to David,
"Oh! G—H—I—J—K."

The Escort's Farewell.

The Escort's Farewell.

"I hope to survive the festive engagements, mid win my Mabuel!"