Part 14

Such greetings as should come from those Whose fathers faced the Sepoy hordes, Or served you in the Russian snows And dying, left their sons their swords.

For we are bred to do your will By land and sea, wherever flies The Flag to fight and follow still, And work your empire’s destinies.

Once more we greet you, though unseen Our greetings be, and coming slow. Trust us, if need arise, O Queen! We shall not tarry with the blow.

And there are one or two places in the world that can bear witness how the School kept its word.

A COUNTING-OUT SONG

What is the song the children sing When doorway lilacs bloom in Spring, And the Schools are loosed, and the games are played That were deadly earnest when Earth was made? Hear them chattering, shrill and hard, After dinner-time, out in the yard, As the sides are chosen and all submit To the chance of the lot that shall make them “It.”

(Singing) “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Catch a nigger by the toe! If he hollers let him go Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! You—are—It!_”

Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, and Mo Were the First Big Four of the Long Ago, When the Pole of the Earth sloped thirty degrees, And Central Europe began to freeze, And they needed Ambassadors staunch and stark To steady the Tribes in the gathering dark: But the frost was fierce and flesh was frail, So they launched a Magic that could not fail.

(Singing) “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Hear the wolves across the snow! Someone has to kill ’em—so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make—you—It!_”

Slowly the Glacial Epoch passed, Central Europe thawed out at last; And, under the slush of the melting snows, The first dim shapes of the Nations rose. Rome, Britannia, Belgium, Gaul— Flood and avalanche fathered them all; And the First Big Four, as they watched the mess, Pitied Man in his helplessness.

(Singing) “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Trouble starts when Nations grow. Someone has to stop it—so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make—you—It!_”

Thus it happened, but none can tell What was the Power behind the spell— Fear, or Duty, or Pride, or Faith— That sent men shuddering out to death— To cold and watching, and, worse than these, Work, more work, when they looked for ease— To the day’s discomfort, the night’s despair, In the hope of a prize that they never would share.

(Singing) “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! Man is born to toil and woe. One will cure the other—so Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make—you—It._”

Once and again, as the Ice went North The grass crept up to the Firth of Forth. Once and again, as the Ice came South The glaciers ground over Lossiemouth. But, grass or glacier, cold or hot, Men went out who would rather not, And fought with the Tiger, the Pig and the Ape, To hammer the world into decent shape.

(Singing) “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo! What’s the use of doing so? Ask the Gods, for we don’t know; But Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make—us—It!_”

Nothing is left of that terrible rune But a tag of gibberish tacked to a tune That ends the waiting and settles the claims Of children arguing over their games; For never yet has a boy been found To shirk his turn when the turn came round; Or even a girl has been known to say “If you laugh at me I sha’n’t play.”

For— “_Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo, Don’t you let the grown-ups know! You may hate it ever so, But if you’re chose you’re bound to go, When Eenee, Meenee, Mainee, Mo Make—you—It!_”

THE END

Footnote 1:

Pack your kit and trek, Ferriera, Pack your kit and trek. A long pull, all on one side, Johnnie with the lame leg.

Footnote 2:

Beaten.

Footnote 3:

Red necks—English soldiers.

Footnote 4:

Remember, the Chinaman generally says “l” for “r.”

Footnote 5:

A kind of sticky sweatmeat.

Footnote 6:

Bordeaux snails are specially large and sweet.

Footnote 7:

They grill pigs’-feet still at St. Menehoulde, not far from Verdun, better than anywhere else in all France.

Footnote 8:

Gone—to get pâtés of ducks’ liver at Toulouse; fatted poultry at Bourg in Bresse, on the road to Geneva; and very large chestnuts in sugar at Carcassonne about forty miles from Toulouse.

Footnote 9:

This would probably be some sort of wild boar ham from Germany.

Footnote 10:

Expensive.

Footnote 11:

Beaten up.

Footnote 12:

Sneer or despise.

Footnote 13:

Brings him to table.

Footnote 14:

Starve.

Footnote 15:

The Pope himself, who depends on his cook for being healthy and well-fed.

Footnote 16:

Dispute or argument.

Footnote 17:

Men are influenced by their cooks as ships are steered by their rudders.

Footnote 18:

Never mind.

Footnote 19:

Ithuriel was that Archangel whose spear had the magic property of showing everyone exactly and truthfully what he was.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.