Explore "Johnny Boer" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run, / And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun. / At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about / They reckon Fuzzy-wuzzy is the hottest fighter out. / But Fuzzy gives himself away -- his style is out of date, / He charges like a driven grouse that rushes on its fate; / You've nothing in the world to do but pump him full of lead: / But when you're fighting Johnny Boer you have to use your head; / He don't believe in front attacks or charging at the run, / He fights you from a kopje with his little Maxim gun.
For when the Lord He made the earth, it seems uncommon clear, / He gave the job of Africa to some good engineer, / Who started building fortresses on fashions of his own -- / Lunettes, redoubts, and counterscarps all made of rock and stone. / The Boer needs only bring a gun, for ready to his hand / He finds these heaven-built fortresses all scattered through the land; / And there he sits and winks his eye and wheels his gun about, / And we must charge across the plain to hunt the beggar out. / It ain't a game that grows on us, there's lots of better fun / Than charging at old Johnny with his little Maxim gun.