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Rudyard Kipling - Half-Ballad of Waterval
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When by the labor of my `ands
   I`ve `elped to pack a transport tight 
With prisoners for foreign lands,    
  I ain`t transported with delight.
  I know it`s only just an` right,
    But yet it somehow sickens me,
For I `ave learned at Waterval
    The meanin` of captivity.

Be`ind the pegged barb-wire strands,
  Beneath the tall electric light,
We used to walk in bare-`ead bands,
  Explainin` `ow we lost our fight;
  An` that is what they`ll do to-night
    Upon the steamer out at sea,
If  I `ave learned at Waterval
    The meanin` of captivity.

They`ll never know the shame that brands—
  Black shame no livin` down makes white—
The mockin` from the sentry-stands,
  The women`s laugh, the gaoler`s spite.
  We are too bloomin`-much polite,
     But that is `ow I`d `ave us be   .   .   .
Since I `ave learned at Waterval
    The meanin` of captivity.

They`ll get those draggin` days all right,
  Spent as a foreigner commands,
An` `orrors of the locked-up night,
  With `Ell`s own thinkin` on their `ands.
  I`d give the gold o` twenty Rands
     (If it was mine) to set `em free
  For I `ave learned at Waterval
    The meanin` of captivity!
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