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Updated: June 22, 2025
"A Staff Orf'cer man, clean as a new rifle, rides up an' sez: 'What damned scarecrows are you? "'A comp'ny av Her Majesty's Black Tyrone an' wan av the Ould Rig'mint, sez Crook very quiet, givin' our visitors the flure as 'twas. "'Oh! sez the Staff Orf'cer; 'did you dislodge that Reserve? "'No! sez Crook, an' the Tyrone laughed. "'Thin fwhat the divil have ye done?
"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush an' pitch the things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation. "'Soft an' aisy, sorr, sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in hand since you left cantonmints.
"Well an' far out av harm was a Sargint av the Tyrone sittin' on the little orf'cer bhoy who had stopped Crook from rowlin' the rocks. Oh, he was a beautiful bhoy, an' the long black curses was slidin' out av his innocint mouth like mornin'-jew from a rose! "'Fwhat have you got there? sez I to the Sargint. "'Wan av Her Majesty's bantams wid his spurs up, sez he. 'He's goin' to Coort-martial me.
I'll assist your autobiography. Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was! "'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment? sez I to Scrub Greene the manest little worm that ever walked. "'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook, sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' Republic.
I won't marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply for exchange into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll be a bloomin' orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry-wine, Mister Lew, an' you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room while the Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands." "'S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite.
'A Staff Orf'cer man, clean as a new rifle, rides up an' sez: "What damned scarecrows are you?" "A comp'ny av Her Majesty's Black Tyrone an' wan av the Ould Rig'mint," sez Crook very quiet, givin' our visitors the flure as 'twas. "Oh!" sez the Staff Orf'cer; "did you dislodge that Reserve?" "No!" sez Crook, an' the Tyrone laughed. "Thin fwhat the divil have ye done?"
We hadn't rowled more than twinty bowlders, an' the Paythans was beginnin' to swear tremenjus, whin the little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone shqueaks out acrost the valley: "Fwhat the devil an' all are you doin', shpoilin' the fun for my men? Do ye not see they'll stand?" "Faith, that's a rare pluckt wan!" sez Crook. "Niver mind the rocks, men. Come along down an' take tay wid thim!"
"'Faith, you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr, sez I, 'but av you shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim inship at all, at all. Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do. "'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf in Egypt." "What was that, Mulvaney?" said I.
'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av country. Consiquintly that rig'lation for fear that the men wud be hurt by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther.
'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av country. Consiquintly that rig'lation for fear that the men wud be hurt by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther.
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