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Marching Song.

Tune: "Come Bound London with Me."

"Here are warriors all ablaze,
Sabres and epaulettes, ha! ha!
All of them ordered to spend their days
Practising minuets, ha! ha!

—Gilbert.

Trentham to Tauherenikau, tramping over the hill,
When at the summit there's afternoon tea
(One of the many things given you free).
We have no time for pow-wow—leave that to Joe and Bill;
It's really worth while washing your neck
In the Spartan Brigade.

There is one consolation—boiled beef, buttons and beer,
Subalterns, stables, and sugar and stew
(Think of the luxuries given to you!)
All is borne by the nation (you get two shirts a year!)
Live like kings at the country's expense,
Join the Spartan Brigade.

All the tin hats will kindly ask you over to dine,
Captains and colonels and majors and cooks,
Lawyers and clients, too, coppers and crooks,
All vie for your pleasure over the nuts and wine—
If you want to play at democracy
Join the Spartan Brigade.