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THE MOTHER LODGE
Brother Rudyard Kipling
There was Rundle, Station Master, An' Beazeley of the Rail, An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,
An' Donkin' o' the Jail; An' Blake, Conductor-
Outside -
There was Babu Chuckerbutty, An' Amir Singh the Sikh, An' Castro from the fittin'-
An' lookin' on it backwardsIt often strikes me thus, There ain't such things as infidels, Excep', per'aps, it's us.For monthly, after Labour, We'd all sit down and smoke(We dursn't give no banquits, Lest a Brother's caste were broke),
An' man on man got talkin 'Religion an' the rest, An' every man comparin 'Of the
God 'e knew the best. So man on man got talkin ',An' not a Brother stirred Till mornin'
waked the parrots An' that dam' brain-
We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva Changin' pickets in our 'ead. Full oft on Guv'ment service This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, An' bore fraternal greetin's To the Lodges east an' west,
Accordin' as commanded From Kohat to Singapore, But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother-
An' the old khansamah snorin' [Butler.] On the bottle-