Of course, Kipling's poem about pack artillery can be sung to this tune:

For we all love the screw-guns! The screw-guns, they love you! So when we come round with a few guns, this is the thing you should do! Just call in your Chief and surrender - it's worse if you fights or you runs, You can do what you please - you can skin up the trees - but you can't get away from the guns!