Volume 150 — MORE EYE-WASH.

Whene'er I see some high brass-hatted man Inspect the Depôt with his ribboned train, When all seems spick and absolutely span And no man spits and nothing gives him pain, I think what blissful ignorance is theirs Who only see us on inspection days, And wonder, could they catch us unawares, Would they be still so eloquent of praise? They think the soldiers are a cleanly type, For all their brass is bright with elbow-fat, Burnished their bayonets and oiled their hyp; Do they suppose they always look like that? They see the quarters beautiful and gay, Yet never realise, with all their lore, Those bright new beds were issued yesterday And will to-morrow be returned to store. They doubtless say, "Was ever drill so deft? Were ever rifles so precisely sloped? Observe that section change direction left So much, much better than the best we hoped;" But little know with what grim enterprise For week on week that clever-looking crew Have practised up for their especial eyes The sole manœuvre they can safely do. And I could tell where many a canker gnaws Within the walls they fancy free from sin; I know how officers infringe their laws, I know the corners where the men climb in; I know who broke the woodland fence to bits And what platoon attacked the Shirley cow, While the dull Staff, for all their frantic chits, Know not the truth of that distressing row. These are the things I think they should be taught, But, since I know what ages must elapse, What forms be filled, what signatures be sought, Ere I have speech with such exalted chaps, I here announce that they are much misled, That they should see us when we think them far, Should steal upon us, all unheralded, And find what frauds, what awful frauds we are.