THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR.

Te Aroha News, Volume XVI, Issue 222036, 13 January 1900, Page 3

THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR.

[We reprint herewith the words of this now famous poem by Rudynrd Kipling, which first appeared in the London ‘Daily Mail.’ The proprietors offered t ho writer £250 for the verses, but he declined to accept any payment, suggt sting that whatever was realised from a sale of it should be devoted to the patriotic fund starred by that journal f r the relations of ‘Tommy Atkins.’ The ‘Mail’ultimately sold the MSS to a gentleman for £525, - and devoted the total amount, viz. £775, to the fund referred to. Since then the poem his been printed in sheet form, and sold at Id per copy, the proceeds of which sale running into thousands of pounds, has been devoted to the same fund. The words have recently been set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan, and the song was sung in a London music hall amidst intense enthusiasm.]

When you’ve shouted ‘Rule Britannia,’ when you’ve sung ‘ God .Save the Queen.’ When you’ve finished killing Kruger with your mouth, Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine For a gentleman in khaki ordered South ? He’s an absent-minded beggar, and his weaknesses are great; But we and Paul must take him as we find him ; He is out on active service, wiping something off a slate, And he has left a lot o’ little tilings behind him ! Duke’s son, cook’s son, son of a hundred kings (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to table Bay!) Each of ’em doing his country’s work (and who’s to look after their things ?J Pass the hat for your credit’s sake, and pay—pay —pay. There are girls he married secret, asking no permission to, For he knew he wouldn’t get it if he did; There is gas and coal and vittles, and the house-rent falling due. And its more than rather likely there’s a kid. There are girls he walked with casual; they’ll be sorry now he’s gone, For an absent-minded beggar they will find him; But it ain’t the time for sermons with the winter coming on— We must help the girl that Tommy’s loft behind him. Cook’s son, Duke’s son, son of a belted Earl, Son of a Lambeth publican—it’s all the to-day; Each of ’em doing his country’s work (and who’s to look after the girl?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay—pay—pay. There are families by thousands, far too proud to beg, or speak, And they’ll put their sticks and bedding up the spout, And they’ll live on half o’ nothing paid ’em punctual once a week. ’Cause the man who earned the wage is orde?ed out. He’s an absent-minded beggar, but he heard his country call, And his regiment didn’t need to send to find him; He chucked his job and joined it—so the the, job before us all Is to help the home that Tommy’s left behind him. Duke’s job, cook’s job, gardener, baronet, groom; Mews or palace or paper-shop— there’s someone gone away, Each of ’em doing his country’s work (and who’s to look after the room?) Pass the hat for your credit’s sake, and pay—pay —pay. Let us manage so as later we can look him in the face, And tell him —what he’d very much prefer— That, while he saved the Empire, his employer saved his place, And his mates (that’s you aud me) looked out for her. He’s an absent-minded beggar, and he may forget it all, ‘ But we do not want his kiddies to remind him That we sent ’em to the workhouse while their daddy hammered Paul. So we’ll help the homes our Tommy’s left behind him. Cook’s soon, Duke’s, son of a millionaire (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!) Each of ’em doing his country’s work, and what have you got to spare ? Pass the hat for your credit’s sake, and p >y —pay —pay.