OUR RIFLE VOLUNTEERS
Reading edition
A Peace Song (1859) (Composed and volunteered by Mr. Punch)
Some talk of an invasion As a thing whereat to sneeze, And say we have no occasion To guard our shores and seas: Now, Punch is no alarmist, Nor is moved by idle fears, But he sees no harm that we all should arm As Rifle Volunteers! Let sudden foes assail us, 'Tis well we be prepared; Our Fleet—who knows?—may fail us, Nor serve our shores to guard. For self-defence, then, purely, Good reason there appears, To have, on land, a force at hand Of Rifle Volunteers! To show no wish for fighting, Our forces we'd increase; But 'tis our foes by frighting We best may keep at peace, For who will dare molest us When, to buzz about their ears, All along our coast there swarms a host Of Rifle Volunteers! Abroad ill winds are blowing, Abroad war's vermin swarm; What may hap there's no knowing, We may not 'scape the storm. Athirst for blood, the Eagles May draw our dove's nest near; But we'll scare away all birds of prey With our Rifle Volunteers! No menace we're intending, Offence to none we mean, We arm but for defending Our country and our Queen! To British hearts 'tis loyalty 'Tis love her name endears: Up! then, and form! shield her from harm Ye Rifle Volunteers!
The above is not a war picture. It merely represents an incident in the too realistic scouting manœuvres of the Blankshire Yeomanry. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Timmins thought at least the country had been invaded.
De Vœux. "My grandfather, you know, lived till he was ninety-eight."
Trevor Carthew. "Well, my grandmother died at the age of ninety-seven."
Brown. "In my family there are several who are not dead yet!"
Dignity in Distress.
Small Boys (to Volunteer Major in temporary command). "I say, guv'nor—hi! Just wipe the blood off that 'ere sword!"
FORE AND——
Sergeant. "Back a little, number five!"
—— AFT!
Sergeant. "Up a little, number five!"
Our Reserves!
Aide-de-Camp (at the review). "What are you doing here, sir? Where's your regiment?"
Party on the Grass. "Shure I don' know. Bu-r I don't rec'nise your 'thority, gov'nour!"
Aide-de-Camp (furious). "What the deuce d'you mean, sir? You're a Volunteer, aren't you?"
Party on the Grass. "(Hic!) Norabirofit!—Was jus' now—bu-r I've reshigned 'n cons'quence—temp'ry indishposition!"
"Summing Up."
Captain. "What's the charge, sergeant?"
Sergeant. "This time it's drunkenness, sir. But this man is the most troublesome fellow in the regiment, sir. He goes out when he likes, and comes in when he likes, and gets drunk when he likes—in fact, he might be a horficer!!"