We are struggling up the awful hill. We’re
     all of us damaged, more or less.
We’re bumped and shaken and cramped
     and chill; but sorry at heart for your distress.
We heard from afar your yearning prayer.
     We jumped at the chance of a wider range.
We’re rather tired of the boys down there
     and every girl is fond of a change.
So we’re coming to see you, twenty strong
     into your arms we are fain to jump.
The way is weary, the way is long,
     there’s a hole, look out for a bump.
Merry of heart and full of chaff (the horses
     are blown, we’ll have to stop).
Ready of tongue and quick to laugh (Oh!
     how we wish we were at the top).
Cheeks like roses and eyes so bright.
     Bravely we fare and hardships scorn.
Won’t we have a good time tonight. (Won’t
     we look tough tomorrow morn.)
Onward then through the mud and dirt.
     On to the goal of adoring man.
Maiden, matron, chaperone, flirt: onward
     the girls of the Cowichan clan.

 ~ Robert W. Service 

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