He came from tumbled country past the 
humps of Buffalo 
Where the snow sits on the mountain 'n' the 
Summer aches below. 
He'd a silly name like Archie. Squattin' 
sullen on the ship, 
He knew nex' to holy nothin' through the gor- 
forsaken trip. 

No thoughts he had of women, no refreshin' 
talk of beer; 
If he'd battled, loved, or suffered vital facts 
did not appear; 
But the parsons and the poets couldn't teach 
him to discourse 
When it come to pokin' guyver at a pore, 
deluded horse. 

If nags got sour 'n' kicked agin the rules of 
things at sea, 
Artie argued matters with 'em, 'n' he'd kid 
'em up a tree. 
?Here's a pony got hystericks. Pipe the word 
for Privit Rowe,? 
The Sargint yapped, 'n' all the ship came 
cluckin' to the show. 

He'd chat him confidential, 'n' he'd pet 'n' 
paw the moke; 
He'd tickle him, 'n' flatter him, 'n' try him 
with a joke; 
'N' presently that neddy sobers up, 'n' sez 
?Ive course, 
Since you puts it that way, cobber, I will be 
a better horse.? 

There was one pertickler whaler, known 
aboard ez Marshal Neigh, 
Whose monkey tricks with Privit Rowe was 
better than a play. 
He'd done stunts in someone's circus, 'n' he 
loved a merry bout, 
Whirlin' in to bust his boiler, or to kick 
the bottom out. 

Rowe he sez: ?Well, there's an idjit! Oh, 
yes, let her whiz, you beauty! 
Where's yer 'orse sense, little feller? Where's 
yer bloomin' sense iv duty? 
Well, you orter serve yer country!? Then 
there'd come a painful hush, 
'N' that nag would drop his head-piece, 'n', so 
'elp me cat, he'd blush. 

We was heaped ashore be Suez, rifle, horse, 
'n' man, 'n' tent, 
Where the land is sand, the water, 'n' the 
gory firmament. 
We had intervals iv longin', we had sweaty 
spells of work 
In the ash-pit iv Gehenner, dumbly waitin' 
fer the Turk. 

We goes driftin' on the desert, nothin' doin', 
nothin' said, 
Till we get to think we're nowhere, 'n' arf 
fancy we are dead, 
'N' the only 'uman interest on the red hori- 
zon's brim 
Is Marshal Neigh's queer faney fer the lad 
that straddles him. 

Plain-livin's nearly, bored us stiff. The Major 
calls on Rowe 
To devise an entertainment. What his 
charger doesn't know 
Isn't in the regulations. Him 'n' Rowe is 
brothers met, 
'N' that horse's sense iv humor is the oddest 
fancy yet. 

But the Turk arrives one mornin' on the outer 
edge iv space. 
From back iv things his guns is floppin' kegs 
about the place, 
'N' Privit Artie Rowe along with others iv 
the force 
Goes pig-rootin' inter battle, holdin' converse 
with his horse. 

Little Abdul's quite a fighter, 'n' he mixes it 
with skill; 
But the Anzacs have him snouted,, 'n', oh, 
ma, he's feelin' ill. 
They wake the all-fired desert, 'n' the land for 
ever dead 
Is alive 'n' fairly creepin', and the skies are 
droppin' lead. 

When they've got the Ot'man goin', little 
gaudy hunts begin. 
It fer us to chiv His Trousers. 'n' to round 
the stragglers in. 
Cuttin' closest to the raw, 'n' swearin' lovin' 
all the way, 
Is Artie from Molinga on his neddy, Marshal 
Neigh. 

We're pursuin' sundry camels turkey-trottin' 
anyhow 
With the carriage iv an emu 'n' the action iv 
a cow, 
When a sand dune busts, 'n' belches arf a 
million iv the foe. 
They uncork a blanky batt'ry, 'n' it's, Allah, 
let her go! 

We're not stayin' dinner, thank you. Lie 
along yer horse 'n' yell, 
While the bullets pip yer britches 'n' you 
sniff the flue of Hell. 
Here it is that Artie takes it good 'n' solid in 
the crust, 
He dives from out the saddle, 'n' is swallered 
in the dust. 

I got through 'n' saw them pointin' where the 
Marshal faced the band. 
He was goin' where we came from, sniffin' 
bodies in the sand. 
Till he found Rowe snugglin' under, took him 
where his pants was slack, 
'N' be all the Asiatic gods, he brought his 
soldier back! 

With a bullet in his buttock, 'n' a drill hole 
in his ear, 
He dumped Artie down among us. Square 
'n' all, how did we cheer! 
There's no medals struck fer neddies, but we 
rule there orter be, 
'N' the pride iv all the Light Horse is old 
Marshal Neigh, V.C.