English poem
King—of the Khyber Rifles
by Talbot Mundy (1879–1940)
Suckled were we in a school unkind On suddenly snatched deduction And ever ahead of you (never behind!) Over the border our tracks you'll find, Wherever some idiot feels inclined To scatter the seeds of ruction.
2For eyes we be, of Empire, we! 2Skinned and Puckered and quick to see 2And nobody guesses how wise we be. 2Unwilling to advertise we be. 2But, hot on the trail of ties, we be 2The pullers of roots of ruction!