My brother Andy said, that for a soldier he
would go, So great excitement came upon the house of McElroe. My father sold a bog-hole to equip him for the war. And
my mother sold the cushions of her Sunday jaunting car. And when brave Andy reach'd the front, 'twas furious
work he made, They appointed him a private in the Crocodile Brigade. The sound of Andy's battle cry struck terror thro'
the foe. His foot was on the desert and his name was McElroe. At least that's what the letter said that came across the foam. To Andy's anxious relatives awaiting
him at home. The papers say he ran away before he met the foe. But that was quite unlike the style of Andy McElroe.
One
morning brave Lord Wolseley for a battle felt inclined; But all could see the general had something on his mind; Sez
he, 'My staff, 'twere dangerous to face yon deadly foe, Unless we're sure that quite prepared is Andy McElroe.' Then
Andy cried, 'I'm here, my lord, and ready for the fray,' 'Advance then,' cried Lord Wolseley, 'and let every trumpet bray.' Then
England, Ireland, Scotland, rolled together on the foe, But far ahead of everyone rushed Andy McElroe. At least, that's what the letter said that came across
the foam To Andy's anxious relatives, awaiting him at home. The government despatches had another tale- but no! We
won't believe a word against brave Andy McElroe.
The Mahdi had gone up a tree, a spyglass in his eye, To see
his Paynim chivalry the northern prowess try; But soon he saw a form of dread, and cried in tones of woe, 'Be jabers
let me out of this - there's Andy McElroe.' Then down he hurried from his tree, and straight away he ran, To keep appointments,
as he said, in distant Kordofan, And fled those Arab soldiery like sand siroccos blow, Pursued (with much profanity)
by Andy McElroe. At least,
that's what he told us when returning o'er the foam To greet his anxious relatives, awaiting him at home. So sing the
song of triumph, and let all your bumpers flow, In honour of our countryman, brave Andrew McElroe.
|