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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374791" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Crusaders</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What price yer humble, Dicko Smith, <br>in gaudy putties girt, <br>With sand-blight in his optics, and much <br>leaner than he started, <br>Round the 'Oly Land cavorting in three- <br>quarters of a shirt, <br>And imposin' on the natives ez one Dick <br>the Lion 'Earted? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We are drivin' out the infidel, we're hittin' <br>up the Turk, <br>Same ez Richard slung his right across the <br>Saracen invader <br>In old days of which I'm readin'. Now <br>we're gettin' in our work, <br>'N' what price me nibs, I ask yeh, ez a <br>qualified Crusader! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ere I am, a thirsty Templar in the fields of <br>Palestine, <br>Where that hefty little fighter, Bobby <br>Sable, smit the heathen, <br>And where Richard Coor de Lion trimmed <br>the Moslem good 'n' fine, <br>'N' he took the belt from Saladin, the <br>slickest Dago breathin'. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's no plume upon me helmet, 'n' no red <br>cross on me chest, <br>'N' so fur they haven't dressed me in a <br>swanking load of metal; <br>We've no 'Oly Grail I know of, but we do <br>our little best <br>With a jamtin, 'n' a billy, 'n' a battered <br>ole mess kettle. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quite a lot of guyver missin' from our brand <br>of chivalry; <br>We don't make a pert procession when <br>we're movin' up the forces; <br>We've no pretty, pawin' stallion, 'n' no <br>pennants flowin' free, <br>'N' no giddy, gaudy bedquilts make a <br>circus of the 'orses. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We 'most always slip the cattle 'n' we cut out <br>all the dog <br>When it fairly comes to buttin' into battle's <br>hectic fever, <br>Goin' forward on our wishbones, with our <br>noses in the bog, <br>'N' we 'eave a pot iv blazes at the cursed <br>unbeliever. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fancy-dress them old Crusaders wore, <br>and alwiz kep' a band. <br>What we wear's so near to nothin' that it's <br>often 'ardly proper, <br>And we swings a tank iv iron scrap across <br>the 'Oly Land <br>From a dinkie gun we nipped ashore the <br>other side of Jopper. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We ain't ever very natty, for the climate here <br>is hot; <br>When it isn't liquid mud the dust is thicker <br>than the vermin. <br>Ten to one our bold Noureddin is some wad- <br>dlin' Turkish pot, <br>'N' the Saladin we're on to is a snortin' <br>red-eyed German. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But be'old the eighth Crusade, 'n' Dicko <br>Smith is in the van, <br>Dicko Coor de Lion from Carlton what <br>could teach King Dick a trifle, <br>For he'd bomb his Royal Jills from out his <br>baked-pertater can, <br>Or he'd pink him full of leakage with a <br>quaint repeatin' rif1e. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We have sunk our claws in Mizpah, and <br>Siloam is in view. <br>By my 'alidom from Agra we will send the <br>Faithful reelin'! <br>Those old-timers botched the contract, but we <br>mean to put it through. <br>Knights Templars from Balmain, the Port, <br>Monaro, Nhill, andl Ealin'. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We 'are wipin' up Jerus'lem; we were ready <br>with a hose <br>Spoutin' lead, a dandy cleaner that you bet <br>you can rely on; <br>And Moss Isaacs, Cohn, and Cohen, Moses, <br>Offelbloom 'n' those <br>Can all pack their bettin' bags, and come <br>right home again to Zion.</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=374791" data-title="The Crusaders de Edward George Dyson" data-description="What price yer humble, Dicko Smith, 
in gaudy putties girt, 
With sand-blight in his optics, and much 
leaner than he started, 
Round the 'Oly Land cavorting in three- 
quarters of a shirt, 
And imposin' on the natives ez one Dick 
the Lion 'Earte..."></div>
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