BACK FROM THE WAR IN CUBA.

WHEN I come back from Cuba

They laid me up a spell, A convalescing from a piece Of a busted Spanish shell; And while I laid in hospital, Requiring all my grit, Some ladies come around one day To cheer us up a bit.

And one (she was the daughter Of a New York millionaire) She come and took a look at me, And sat down in a chair ; And talked and gossipped with me- Lor' ! how I wished she'd stay !- Till finally the surgeon came And ordered her away. Then when she come to taking leave, Froni out her bag she took,

And made to we a present of

A little gilt-edged book ; A-saying as she give it me, She knew that I'd enjoy The stories that was in it 'Bout another soldier-boy.

I found in it some verses, By a Mr. Rudyard K., Relating many anecdotes Of a certain Thomas A.

This kind of took my fancy, And I read it through and through, And found he was first-cousin To us Yankee "Boys in Blue."

With some external difference,— But what's the odds o' that? lie wears a pipe-clayed helmet, And us a campaign hat ; His natty scarlet tunic

Fits like paper on a wall, Whilst our own service blouses Ain't got no fit at all.

In every kind of climate, Like us, he chills or roasts, Though he does his work in " garrisons," And us in " frontier posts."

And while each yeaaiat Aldershot His various corps will join, You'll find us doing scouting Round Fort Asainiboine.

These are bat trifles after all , The difference of the land;

And when it comes to fighting

We can take him by the hand.

And if they has us out agin, I hope that I may say We'll be touching elbows with you, First-cousin Thomas A.

Here's looking at you, Tommy!

We hope some day to get A chance to get acquainted A little better yet.

At last all ancient jealousies 'Twixt you and us are gone. You've had your Balaclava, We've had our San Juan.