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Poem	What have the cavalry done? Cantered and trotted about, Routin' the enemy out, Causin' the beggars to run! And we tramped along in the blazin' heat, Over the veldt on our weary feet. Tramp, tramp, tramp Under the blazin' sun, With never the sight of a bloomin' Boer, 'Cause they'd hunted 'em long before -- That's what the cavalry done! What have the gunners done Battlin' every day, Battlin' any way. Boers outranged 'em, but what cared they? "Shoot and be damned," said the R.H.A.! See! when the fight grows hot, Under the rifles or not, Always the order runs, "Fetch up the bloomin' guns!" And you'd see them great gun horses spring To the "action front" -- and around they'd swing. Find the range with some queer machine "At four thousand with fuse fourteen. Ready! Fire number one!" Handled the battery neat and quick! Stick to it, too! How did they stick! Never a gunner was seen to run! Never a gunner would leave his gun! Not though his mates dropped all around! Always a gunner would stand his ground. Take the army -- the infantry, Mounted rifles, and cavalry, Twice the numbers I'd give away, And I'd fight the lot with the R.H.A., For they showed us how a corps should be run, That's what the gunners done!
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