The Rhyme of Rudyard K

I am the casual cuss who made the British Empire known– The Geographical poet, with a line for the littlest stone, And a rhyme for the largest island, and a page for the tropic sea, And a comma for a continent, and a column for a sea.

I am the Empire’s bagman. I barrack for British trade; And I teach that the solar system for British trade was made; For the sake of ME and the Empire–I, the Absent-Minded, went And got the fee-simple of all the stars, and the deeds of the firmament.

I have taken the North Wind by and large, and tailed and ear-marked him; I have shot the zephyr on the wing in the twilight cool and dim; I have faked the brands of the virtues all from the Cape to the Dogger Bank; I have yarded God, and branded him "JB over E" on the flank.

I wrote a great Recessional (tho’ I don't want any recesh; For even above my love of steam I love heaps of mangled flesh), And when I wrote of Dominion that is over palm and pine I seemed to copy Emerson–but I thought the line was mine.

When I write of an army coward–'tis from Ireland that he comes; And he's led to be slain at the dawn to the roll of good English drums; And I, although I never have seen a fight, you have only me to thank For the knowledge that courage is British–and all the vices are Yank.

I put on my specs in Port Phillip, and I spat on Sydney Quay, But I'm the bloke that hits it in once–no serving my time for me! And I cleaned ray nails over Brisbane, and I sneezed for an hour at Perth, And then I came home on the English mail and I wrote of the Big Wide Earth.

So Rhodes and ME are partners–he sticks to the boodling side; But I run the rhyme-department, and I cut my swathe very wide. There's ME and Rhodes and the Empire–and the last has me to thank, For I've yarded God and branded him "JB over E" on the flank.