Were bullets buzzing among the trees. Were strange to a practical man like Burns, Troubled no more by fancies fine Than one of his calm-eyed, long-tailed, kine,Quite old-fashioned and matter-of-fact, Slow to argue, but quick to act. That was the reason, as some folk say, Raged for hours the heady fight, Thundered the battery's double bass,- While on the left-where now the graves Up to the pits the rebels kept Round shot ploughed the upland glades, The very trees were stripped and bare; The turkeys screamed with might and main, Just where the tide of battle turns, Erect and lonely stood old John Burns. How do you think the man was dressed? And, buttoned over his manly breast, Was a bright blue coat, with a rolling collar, For forty years on the village green, Close at his elbows all that day, Sunburnt and bearded, charged away; "How are you, White Hat!" "Put her through !" With his long brown rifle and bell-crown hat, 'Twas but a moment, for that respect Which clothes all courage their voices checked; And something the wildest could understand So raged the battle. You know the rest: At which John Burns-a practical man- That is the story of old John Burns; In fighting the battle, the question's whether “How are you, Sanitary?' Down the picket-guarded lane Rolled the comfort-laden wain, Phrases such as camps may teach, Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech, Such as "Bully! ""Them's the peach!" "Wade in, Sanitary!" Right and left the caissons drew As the car went lumbering through, Squadrons military; Sunburnt men with beards like frieze, Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these,"U. S. San. Com." "That's the cheese!" "Pass in, Sanitary!" In such cheer it struggled on And where bullets whistling fly, "Help us, brothers, ere we die,~ VOL. I |