THE WAIL OF THE WEARY.

Thames Star, Volume XVII, Issue 5151, 21 July 1885, Page 3

THE WAIL OF THE WEARY.

The names of the Russians figuring in despatches from the frontier during the crisis were coiupurativrly simple. Komsroff (accent on Hie first syllable) is almost as simple as Lumsden, and Alikhnnoff is no worse than 12 id go way. But unless the incident has ended, tbereVould have been many an unhappy Briton to appreciate the groan of the Boston poet, who has rented his feelings in the following Russian war , song:— Wo'ro coming, Alexandrofitch, at least a million more, From Kanineshoeja'a bay and Obskalagouba's shore, From Karakouski's frozen wild, from Tytn* akuia'a plain, We're marching, Alexander, with all our might and main. From Gatmonsckino's forest, from TsoVrnor* beskoi's Tale, From Wassiagourbsku's blooming fields, from OlymskiaV d»le. From Knkamajoaa'fl village, from Meidouicharaki's isle, We're coming, Alexander, the weary rank and file. From polysyllabic Tillages Wo'ro marching gaily down, Perchance to rot in Afglmnland to gild an^w your crown ; We're on to Berg el-Murgliab, and Pcsjschidyeh we seek, And we're headed by some generals whose names no tongue could speak, From provinces and Tillages whose names before the eye Look like a heap of consonants shovelled into "pi." We, arclows and -offskies, -effu and -offs and •vitches, For Holy Church and Pious Czar will die in Herat's ditches.