KRUGER’S LATEST PRAYER.

Greymouth Evening Star, Volume XXXI, 21 September 1901, Page 4

KRUGER’S LATEST PRAYER.

Lord, hear your servant, and forgie Frae a’ my troubles set me free, And drive the British to the sea Without reserve. If you comply, I here agree You aye to serve

Upon ray word you may depend, Though others often I offend, I’m wholly yours, Lord, to the end Baith pound and penny. For you alone my faults can mend — OLord they’re many.

Forget I crushed the native Boer, I shed their blood maist ilka ’oor, An’ stealt their gold that I micht sho’er On mo and mine. My sin is Lord, I’m fond of po’er— Ye ken that fine, \

Increase my army every ’oor, A Samson’s strength len’ every Boer, Mak’ each explosive bullet sure To kill a man. An’ on Spion Kop I’ll build a to’er As quick’s I can. Cast a’ my sins aliint your back, An’ gin I fail to keep the paclc^ Or sacred compacts ali en brak’ Be canny wi’ them. Yet keep my foes aye on the rack, An’ no forgie them. To you for mony mercies gi’en, Then you’ll gi’c me back Bloemfontein’ Lay Roberts' in some kirkyard green Beneath the sod. You’ll ease me o’ a great millstone— A fearfu’ load. Tak’ Bullcr for your special prey Gi’ him a’ Job’s ailments in ae day, Remove him, Lord, He’s in my way, Warst o’ my foes. My strongest forts be cracks like clay. An’ on be goes. On Badcn-Powcll sbo’er shot an’ shell, Drive him whaur lang syne Cloutie fell Wi’ a’ his garrison to dwell, There.try their pranks, To toll the truth he just plays hell Wi’ a’ my ranks. Syne gi’e me that daredevil French, An’ wi’a rope across a branch. Your servant leal will quickly launch That national pest. My thirst for blood will never quench Till he’s at rest. Still, Lord on me thy mercies flow Trust me wi’ Cecil Rhodes an’ Joe, An’ Dr. Jim an’ wi’ one blow I’ll plank the three. Another bounty yet bestow— Set Cronji free. On my oppressors spring surprise, To black death-traps ray foes entice, An’ gic me aid doon ITae the skies, An’ I’ll command. Mak’ me deep, dangerous an’ wise, To rule the land.

I mean to pinch the Afrikander, To dupe and cheat the cursed TJitlandcr I’ll pluck them just like goose and gandci', To suit my end. I’ll be as cute’s a Salamander— If you”ll defend. You ken I’ve long prepared for war, For you have been my guiding star, You’ve kept me richt withoot a scaur, Safe doon till noo. But why should I thus stand alane, An’ try to humble Britain’s Queen, Gin there’s no po’er to intervene, I’ll lose my beard, At first proud Franco seemed michty keen, But now she’s feared. But gin I’m doomed to fa’, 0 Lord, Grant me my freedom, bed and board, There’s nought on noo but great discord, I’m sairly smitten, I’ll ne’er again lift up the sword Against Great Britain.