ARMY HEADQUARTERS   Old is the song that I sing—      Old as my unpaid bills—   Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring   Men at dak-bungalows—old as the Hills.   Ahasuerus Jenkins of the “Operatic Own”    Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-Santley tone.   His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle queer;   He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh! he had an ear.   He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times a day,   He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way,   His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders,   But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders.   He took two months to Simla when the year was at the spring,   And underneath the deodars eternally did sing.   He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at   Cornelia Agrippina who was musical and fat.   She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a Dept.,   Where Cornelia Agrippina's human singing-birds were kept   From April to October on a plump retaining fee,   Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.   Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used to play;   He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was false as they:   So when the winds of April turned the budding roses brown,   Cornelia told her husband: “Tom, you mustn't send him down.”   They haled him from his regiment which didn't much regret him;   They found for him an office-stool, and on that stool they set him,   To play with maps and catalogues three idle hours a day,   And draw his plump retaining fee—which means his double pay.   Now, ever after dinner, when the coffeecups are brought,   Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte;   And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath waxen great,   And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the State.This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI

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