* THE SQUIRE *

Sir John of the Isles,

‘ E stood on‘ is lands,

An’ looked round‘ is large estates:

The lands of waste, an’ the lands of corn;

The rose-clad lands, an’ the lands of thorn;

An’‘ is many gun guarded gates.

Sir John of the Isles,

‘ E sez to T. A.,

‘ E sez to T. A., sez‘ e,

‘ Oh, you an’ your chum, the sailor-man,

Must scour the country as far as you can

For you are gamekeepers to me.’

Sir John of the Isles,

‘ E sez to the swells —

The Downing Street frock-coated crew —

‘ You are stewards of mine, on Colonial land,

An’ my tenants, with seventeen guns an’ a band,

Shall pay their respects unto you!’

Sez John of the Isles

To one of the swells,

‘ Near the lands where you're goin’ to Be

Is the dusty estate of a crotchety cuss,

‘ Oo from time to time causes a great deal of fuss,

For‘ e thinks‘ e's better nor me.’

Sez John of the Isles,

‘ The tenants‘ e rules

Are a very peculiar lot.

‘ Is bailifs are‘ Ollanders, chock full of guile,

An’ they run the estate in a Guy-foxy style.

Which is Dynamite, Treason and Plot!’

Sez John of the Isles,

‘ Do n't mind‘ is remarks,

For the land which is‘ is — it was mine;

But‘ e took it to Law in a court rather grim,

An’ a kopje -‘ id jury decided for‘ im!

An’ awarded the land as a fine.’

Sir John of the Isles,

‘ E sez to the swell,

‘ You're a gentleman, breedin’ an birth,

An’ in case of a row, without losin’ your‘ ead,

You may take my gamekeepers, an’ mark‘ is land red!

On the survey-map of the Earth!’