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[Page 157]

6 Aug, 1916

"Gib it. 2 piastre buksheesh cried one burly Soudanese
They replied, "Ma f'eesh for loose, yer maris, analla booke emshe"
(Arabic for I have no money you blackgaurds)
Get off the earth clear out)

But Waney "Man of action" & quick of thought is he
Chose two large hunks of metal & a deadly shot, shot he
A cry, a thud, a pool of blood, did tell the deadly tale
But nigger reinforcements had heard that gruesome wail
They raced from lonely alleys they burst from every door
They called to one another & rolled up by the score

The original offenders had no faith in Roman gods
Dived straight into a gharrie & left Wane to face the odds
He was keen to stand & fight 'em "turn em down" & go alone
But discretion outed valour & he tried to make for home

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