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So we loosed a bloomin' volley, An' we made the beggars cut, An' when our pouch was emptied out. We used the bloomin' butt, Ho! My! Don't yer come anigh, When Tommy is a playin' with the baynit an' the butt. Barrack Room Ballad. My friend Private Mulvaney told me this, sitting on the parapet of the road to Dagshai, when we were hunting butterflies together.
In it were quartered some of the 1st Bengal Fusiliers, lately brought down from Dagshai. About ninety of these marched with us to Delhi. With these we were in all twenty-four officers rather a strong complement even for a whole regiment. The concluding days of the march were trying in the extreme.
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