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1875–1932

* THE MISSION THAT FAILED *

Edgar Wallace

Our troop was encamped by the side of a stream An’ a very smart troop were we. We‘ ad Cavalry orficers — straight from town, An’ we escorted Mister Commissioner Brown,

Commissioner Brown, C. B. An’ we‘ eard that the Governor put‘ im down, For a spare K. C. M. G.! We wos camped near by to a border town,

On the borders of Creegerland — A very despotic, republican state — An’ there we‘ ad got the order to wait, But why, we did not understand.

So we bedded our‘ orses, an’ cussed at our fate ( For you can n't cuss the man in command ). One mornin’ sez Mister Commissioner Brown, Sez‘ e to the‘ ole parade,

‘ I've bin inspired by a dream just now — I can n't say why, an’ I can n't say‘ ow — But a voice in my dream it said, “O in Joannistown there's a deuce of a row

And badly they want your aid! "’ Now Joannistown is in Creegerland, Which same is a friendly state. An’ it is n't no joke — which is puttin’ it fine —

To pass without notice the border-post sign; But we did it, as I will relate.— We really intended to drop‘ em a line! But we‘ ad n't got time to wait.

We‘ ad ridden some miles into Creegerland When Commissioner Brown, C. B., ‘ E called an‘ alt,— which a troop requires, For a man,‘ e tires, as‘ is‘ orse perspires,—

An’‘ e sez to the troop, sez‘ e, ‘ About ten miles from‘ ere are some telegraph wires, An’ a very good thought struck me. ‘ For fear of my dream bein’ misunderstood

An’ the evil constructions of liars!— For fear of alarmin’ the dear farmers’ wives An’ disturbin’ the quiet an’ peace of their lives, I think we will sever them wires!

An’ I'll give somethin’‘ andsome to‘ im‘ oo contrives To cut off the current — with pliers!’ An’ Michael M'Carty, Lance-Corp'ral was‘ e, Right guide to a section of‘ A,’

Started orf on the job, an’ we whispered a cheer, An’ we each gave the beggar our flasks — full of beer — To‘ elp for to lighten‘ is way! We gave‘ im cheap drinks — though it was very dear

When it came round to settling day! M'Carty‘ e rode, an’ M'Carty‘ e swilled, An’ M'Carty got big in the‘ ead, Till‘ e could n't tell telegraph poles from trees,

An’‘ e wandered around, sorter go-as-you-please Till‘ is wonderin’ wanderin's led To the wires — of a fence! an’ reclinin’ at ease ‘ E cut up these wasters instead!

It's all over now: an’ Brown‘ e got jugged, And the Burghers of Creegerland knowed. They licked us to fits in a sweet little fight, An’ the King of Jerusalem wired‘ is delight!

An’ the Laureate wrote us an Ode! An’ Europe got ready for action that night ‘ Cos M'Carty got drunk on the road! M'Carty' s a thief, M'Carty' s a beast,

An’ M'Carty is likewise a liar! ‘ E went an’ got drunk, which‘ e should n't‘ ave done; ‘ E went an’ got drunk, an’‘ e spoilt the‘ ole fun: An’ the moral to them wot conspire

Is, Do n't send a beer-swilling son of a gun When you're cuttin a telegraph wire!

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* THE MISSION THAT FAILED * · Edgar Wallace · Poetry Cove