I JOINED A CONTINGENT 1900

I joined a contingent and went to the war

In search of promotion and pay,

For I fancied the pastime of hunting the Boer

Would suit me at five bob a day.

But, riding along, I heard something go wheeuw -

A bullet passed close to my head -

So I sprang to the ground like a hero so true,

And I lay there and shammed to be dead.

1900

I joined a contingent and went to the war
    In search of promotion and pay,
For I fancied the pastime of hunting the Boer
    Would suit me at five bob a day.
But, riding along, I heard something go wheeuw -
    A bullet passed close to my head -
So I sprang to the ground like a hero so true,
    And I lay there and shammed to be dead.

Spoken
Yes, you can talk about your V.C. and all that. Wait till you’ve heard a bullet go like this, wheeuw, close past your head. The officer shouted out: "Forwards, Forwards!", so I lay there and said to myself, "Well, he doesn’t want me - I’m not a forward, I’m a full-back."

But they called me a white-livered Cur,
    A Mounted Australian Cur;
But, after all’s said,
    I’m alive, and they’re dead,
And that’s what I greatly prefer!
    I’m alive so I’m gay
With my five bob a day
    As a Mounted Australian Cur.

My grandmother taught me a little refrain -
    A sort of a nursery rhyme -
"If you fight till your slain, you cannot fight again -
    If you run you can run every time."
And this piece of wisdom I gathered from her,
    Which, somehow, I never forgot;
"It will hurt you, no doubt to be branded a cur,
    But it hurts you much more to be shot."

Spoken
Yes, a lot of our poor fellows got shot. And what’s the good of five bob a day to a dead man? The officer says to me, "You’re a white-livered cur," he says. "You’re a silly ass," I says. "You’ll get somebody hurt, lettin’ the Boer shoot at us like this. A man’s a fool to follow you, "I says. "You’ll be shot tomorrow morning by a firing squad," he says. "No, I won’t," I says. "I’ll go home tonight. I’m tired of the war," I says.

But they called me a white-livered cur,
    A Mounted Australian Cur;
But, after all’s said,
    I’m alive and they’re dead,
And that’s what I greatly prefer!
    I’m alive, so I’m gay
On my five bob a day
    As a Mounted Australian Cur.