There Are Nine-and-sixty Ways Of Constructing Tribal

If You Can Meet With Triumph And Disaster And Treat Those Two Impostors Just The Same.

There's No Jealousy In The Grave.

You May Talk O' Gin And Beer When You're Quartered Safe Out 'ere, An' You're Sent To Penny-fights An' Aldershot It; But When It Comes To Slaughter You Will Do Your Work On Water, An' You'll Lick The Bloomin' Boots Of 'im That's Got It.

We're Poor Little Lambs Who've Lost Our Way, Baa! Baa! Baa! We're Little Black Sheep Who've Gone Astray, Baa-aa-aa! Gentlemen-rankers Out On The Spree, Damned From Here To Eternity, God Ha' Mercy On Such As We, Baa! Yah! Bah!

The Guns, Thank God, The Guns.