Our Camel Corps Cobbers.

Look at 'em! Cheer at 'em!
Swinging along, Devil-may-cares in a mob,
On ships of the desert all lanky and long,
But a dinkum old crew for the "Job."
The job that old Jacko 'as give 'em to do
From Suez to 'ell only knows,
Who, chivvied and chased, sees the land of the Jew
Is slipping from under 'is toes.

Look at 'em! 'Ark at 'em!
Swinging along,
Their "hooshters" a'skimming the sand;
As quick with a slug as they are with a song,
And to 'ell with yer colours and band.
Romani to Rafa, from Gaza to Ludd;
Thev've brought Tacko down with a cropper,
And linked up the leagues with Colonial blood,
From Jerusalem over to Joppa.

Look at 'em! Up at 'em!
Soaring along,
Their 'eads in the blue of the sky,
Dodging the aeroplanes humming along,
And the clouds when the wind blows 'em by.
Twenty-two, twenty-three 'ands for a mount,
"Hi mate! do they drag yer up there with a rope?"
"No, Dig a big 'ole for 'im, then scramble on,
Yer' oof-picking, 'orse-grooming dope?"

Look to 'im! Drink to 'im!
Fill up 'is glass,
Pour it in, plenty and neat.
If cruising round Cairo yer meet 'im on pass,
Well, then yer carousal's complete.
Riding a "hooshter" or riding a horse,
We're one and the same in the line;
If the lead it's yer life box yer take the same course,
Where yer spurs never need any shine.
So 'ere's to yer, Cobber, for all what yer are,
For all what you've been, there's none better,
I drink to yer crowd, and our land of Afar,
Our island around Oodnadatta.

Palestine. Koolawarra.

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