Butchered to Make A Dutchman's Holiday

Harry Morant

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In prison cell I sadly sit,
A d_d crest-fallen chappie!
And own to you I feel a bit-
A little bit - unhappy!

It really ain't the place nor time
To reel off rhyming diction -
But yet we'll write a final rhyme
Whilst waiting cru-ci-fixion!

No matter what "end" they decide -
Quick-lime or "b'iling ile," sir?
We'll do our best when crucified
To finish off in style, sir!

But we bequeath a parting tip
For sound advice of such men,
Who come across in transport ship
To polish off the Dutchmen!

If you encounter any Boers
You really must not loot 'em!
And if you wish to leave these shores,
For pity's sake, DON'T SHOOT 'EM!!

And if you'd earn a D.S.O.,
Why every British sinner
Should know the proper way to go
Is: "ASK THE BOER TO DINNER!"

Let's toss a bumper down our throat, -
Before we pass to Heaven,
And toast: "The trim-set petticoat
We leave behind in Devon."

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Comments1
  • boycebieber

    Just stumbled upon this poem again after reading it years back during my younger days. What a poignant piece! The irony and humor mix together so well, something you don't easily find these days. Still so relatable despite the passage of time. I admire how it reveals the human spirit in the face of adversity. Love it just as much as I did back then! 😊🙌👌