To The Man With A Gun

My dear Sir, -         I suppose you are having an excellent time just now.         There are a large number of counties         In England and Scotland,         And I am not acquainted with one of them         Wherein your bang-bang         And puffs of smoke         And red-faced men with dogs         Are not to be encountered.         You like it;         It is very nice;         And really, when you come to think of it,         It is what the counties were made for.         In the history books         They were wont to say         Of a certain Norman monarch,         That he loved the red deer         As if he were their brother.         Of you it may safely be said         That you love the red grouse         And the brown partridge.         As if you were a poulterer.         You are a sportsman.         The man who first went out with a gun         To shoot game         Probably did it on the sly.         Had he been caught         He would no doubt have been regarded         By the sportsmen of his day         With the same contempt         That you yourself indulge         For the unprincipled blackguard, Sir,         Who shoots foxes.         But time and the gunsmiths         Have changed all that;         And now you are a sportsman,         A shooter of birds         For the London market.         You are also a gunner,         And you kill things.         Oh! why do you not go         And live at Gunners-bury?         Bad joke?         Well, I know it is.         But I assure you, my dear Sir,         That it is not half so bad as I can make them         When I try.         To come now to the region         Of practical politics,         Let me explain to you right off         That, despite all that has been said against you         By people who are mad about the Land         And the Game-laws,         And the feathered kingdom         And so forth,         I,         Who am always on the side of wisdom,         Have discovered a justification for you.         It is this:         There has been a great demand of late         For really competent shots.         In response to that demand         Mr. Kipling has started a village rifle club.         I understand that the members thereof         Are, let us say, five hundred in number.         Now, I put it to you, Sir,         How many sportsmen are there         Shooting in this beautiful country and Scotland         To-day?         Well, we will not compute;         It is dangerous.         But you could make a fairly big rifle club out of them.         They are all good men,         And of course all beautiful shots.         Some day         (When the war is over)         England may want them.         Will they answer to the call?         My dear Sir,         You have your uses.         Go in peace.