The Bloody Bayonet of Otto Moody
Found among his effects, and showing signs of extremely heavy usage during the struggle against the Boers, is the bloodied and battered bayonet of Canadian Otto Moody (right and below).
He had the Mark I version of the standard 1888 Pattern Lee-Metford bayonet issued to all British soldiers fighting in the Boer War. Otto's bayonet was manufactured in "I '93", January, 1893.
Otto would be in hearty agreement with British Trooper and Poet PT Ross right, about this wonderful weapon of war, which he carried as he campaigned with the 2 CMR in the final bitter struggle in early 1902.
For, while many thought that the bayonet's days were over, Ross penned a poem which expressed the common soldier's feelings on the subject.
Great Canadian Heritage Treasure |

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| Bayonet, Otto Moody - 1902 |
Orig. bayonet - Size - 42 cm
Found - Wibaux, MT |

Peacetime: Glad to see peace once more, and his bayonet - which he had never sharpened - and his other war memorabilia now safely locked into a trunk, Otto Moody (left) returned to Canadian shores, and relaxes at the beach with friends.
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The Ballad of the Bayonet
From "A Yeoman's Letters," PT Ross, 1901
Did I ever use the bay'nit, sir?
In the far off Transvaal War,
Where I fought for Queen and country, sir,
Against the wily Boer.
Aye, many a time and oft, sir,
I've bared the trusty blade,
And blessed the dear old Homeland, sir,
Where it was carefully made.
- Chorus
Then here's to the British bay'nit
Made of Sheffield steel,
And here's to the men who bore it -
Stalwart men and leal.
You notice the dents on the edge, sir
At Bronkhurst Spruit they were done;
I was getting a door for a fire,
For out of wood we had run.
I was smiting hard at the door, sir,
Or rafter, I'm not sure which,
When I struck on an iron screw, sir,
And the bay'nit got this niche.
'Tis my mighty Excalibur, sir,
I've use it in joy and grief,
For digging up many a tater,
Or opening bully beef.
I have used it for breaking wire,
Making tents 'gainst rain and sun;
I have used it as a hoof-pick,
In a hundred ways and one.
Oh, how did the point get blunted, sir?
I was driving it home
As a picketing peg for my horse,
So that he should not roam.
I drove it in a little, sir,
And then in my haste, alas,
I stubbed the point on a rock, sir,
Some inches below the grass.
You ask if it e'er took a life, sir?
Aye, I mind the time full well;
I had spotted him by a farm, sir,
And went for him with a yell.
He tried to escape me hard, sir,
But I plunged it in his side,
And there by his own backyard, sir,
A healthy porker died.
But did I draw it in action?
You ask me roughly now.
Yes, we were taking a kopje,
The foe were on the brow.
We drew and fixed our bay'nits,
The sun shone on the steel:
Death to the sniping beggars
We were about to deal.
Then, sweating and a-puffing,
We scaled the rocky heights,
But when we reaches the top, sir,
The foe was out of sight.
Has it e'er drawn human blood?
Yes once, I grieve to say;
It was not in a battle,
Or any bloody fray;
'Twas just outside Pretoria,
The deed was never meant,
I slipped and fell on the point, sir,
'Twas quite by accident.
- Chorus
Then here's to the British bay'nit
Made of Sheffield steel,
And here's to the men who bore it -
Stalwart men and leal.
And here's to the Millennium,
The time of peaceful peace,
When neighbours shall love each other,
And wicked wars shall cease.
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