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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374755" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Billy Khaki</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Marching somewhat out of order <br>when the band is cock-a-hoop, <br>There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger <br>of the troop, <br>Swinging all aboard the steamer with her <br>nose toward the sea. <br>What is calling, Billy Khaki, that you're foot- <br>ing it so free? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though his lines are none too level, <br>And he lacks a bit of style. <br>And he's swanking like the devil <br>Where the women wave and smile, <br>He will answer with a rifle <br>Trim and true from stock to bore, <br>Where the comrades crouch and stifle <br>In the reeking pit of war. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What is calling, Billy Khaki? There is <br>thunder down the sky, <br>And the merry magpie bugle splits the morn- <br>ing with its cry, <br>While your feet are beating rhythms up the <br>dusty hills and down, <br>And the drums are all a-talking in the hollow <br>of the town. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Billy Khaki, is't the splendor of the song the <br>kiddies sing, <br>Or the whipping of the flags aloft that sets <br>your heart a-swing? <br>Is't the cheering like a paean of the toss- <br>ing, teeming crowds, <br>Or the boom of distant cannon flatly bumping <br>on the clouds ? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What's calling, calling, Billy? 'Tis the rattle <br>far away <br>Of the cavalry at gallop and artillery in play; <br>'Tis the great gun's fierce concussion, and the <br>smell of seven hells <br>When the long ranks go to pieces in the <br>sneezing of the shells. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But your eyes are laughing, Billy, and a <br>ribald song you sing, <br>While the old men sit and tell us war it is a <br>ghastly thing, <br>When the swift machines are busy and the <br>grim, squat fortress nocks <br>At your bolts as vain as eggs of gulls that spatter on the rocks. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the horses sweep upon you to complete <br>a sudden rout, <br>Or in fire and smoke and fury some brave <br>regiment goes out, <br>War is cruel, Bill, and ugly. But full well <br>you know the rest, <br>Yet your heart is for the battle, and your face <br>is to the west. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For if war is beastly, Billy, you can picture <br>something worse— <br>There's the wrecking of an empire, and its <br>broken people's curse; <br>There are nations reft of freedom, and of hope <br>and kindly mirth, <br>And the shadow of an evil black upon the <br>bitter earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we know what's calling, Billy. 'Tis the <br>spirit of our race, <br>And its stir is in your pulses, and its light is <br>on your face <br>As you march with clipping boot-heels <br>through the piping, howling town <br>To uphold the land we live in, and to pull a <br>tyrant down. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou his lines are none too level, <br>And he's not a whale for style, <br>And he's swanking like the devil <br>When the women wave and smile <br>He will answer with a rifle, <br>Trim and true from stuck to bore, <br>When the comrades sit and stifle <br>In the smoking pit of war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374755" data-title="Billy Khaki de Edward George Dyson" data-description="Marching somewhat out of order 
when the band is cock-a-hoop, 
There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger 
of the troop, 
Swinging all aboard the steamer with her 
nose toward the sea. 
What is calling, Billy Khaki, that you're foot- 
ing it s..."></div>
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