I used to sit by the water's edge and watch the campfire glow
"The Selous Scouts"
And I'd listen to the night-birds cry and feel the breezes blow.
My belly full of the meat I'd shot, I'd sit for hours and muse
As the moon came up and the shadows changed to many different hues.
I used to roam through this country wide in search of game so fleet
And I'd listen to the lions roar as they too searched for meat.
I'd make my camp on the grassy plain or in the mountains tall
And I'd friends at every farm and store and every native kraal.
But now when I near a river's edge or roam this country wide
I've a lot of men to back me, and I think of them with pride.
They're a scruffy lot to look at, but they've a tracker's skill;
They're damned fine men in a follow-up, and damned good at a kill.
The Scouts they're called, and well-named, too, for the man whose name they bear
Was the greatest hunter in this land, and these men fear no dare!
Foe the game they hunt is vermin that would pillage, plunder and maim.
And they do their job efficiently, with never thought of fame!
I saw the following poem quite some years ago, which I scrawled down in my notepad!
I am NOT the author; one Sidney I. Lassman is, if I copied the name aright.
William M. "Wedge" Salter
E-Mail: D.W. Salter (email@example.com)