An Infantry man at this time received pay of a shilling a day whereas in civilian employment he could expect to earn 20/- a week. There was no guarantee that when he came back he could return to his old job and there was no provision for his family if he got sick or was injured.

The public were caught up in a burst of patriotism fuelled by the leading newspapers of the day and everyone agreed that something must be done for the brave men who left their families behind to go to fight beyond the seas. Alfred Harmsworth, who owned the Daily Mail, had the idea of asking one of the leading writers of the day - Rudyard Kipling - to write a poem which could be used for the purposes of fund - raising. Sir Arthur Sullivan, than at the height of his fame, wrote a tune, turning the poem into a song and both men gave the copyright of their work to the cause.

The idea was that anyone, amateur or professional, could use the poem, or the song, freely to stage concerts or shows featuring it, provided that the money they raised was donated to the Daily Mail's "Absent Minded Beggar Fund". In a short time £250,000 had been collected -  the equivalent of nearly £20,000,000 today! It was used, over the years, for small comforts for men on the battlefield, to aid widows and orphans, and to assist sick and injured men to support their families on their return.

North Tawton's fund-raising event using the poem is mentioned in the story of Private Samuel Long.

THE ABSENT MINDED BEGGAR
by Rudyard Kipling

When you’ve shouted “Rule Britannia,” when you’ve sung “God save the Queen,”
When you’ve finished killing Kruger with your mouth,
Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine
For a gentleman in khaki ordered South?
He’s an absent-minded beggar, and his weaknesses are great—
But we and Paul must take him as we find him—
He is out on active service, wiping something off a slate—
And he’s left a lot of little things behind him!
Duke’s son—cook’s son—son of a hundred kings—
(Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!)
Each of ’em doing his country’s work
(and who’s to look after their things?)
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake,
and pay—pay—pay!

There are girls he married secret, asking no permission to,
For he knew he wouldn’t get it if he did.
There is gas and coals and vittles, and the house-rent falling due,
And it’s more than rather likely there’s a kid.
There are girls he walked with casual. They’ll be sorry now he’s gone,
For an absent-minded beggar they will find him,
But it ain’t the time for sermons with the winter coming on.
We must help the girl that Tommy’s left behind him!
Cook’s son—duke’s son—son of a belted earl—
Son of a Lambeth publican—it’s all the same to-day!
Each of ’em doing his country’s work
(and who’s to look after the girl?)
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake,
and pay—pay—pay!

There are families by thousands, far too proud to beg or speak,
And they’ll put their sticks and bedding up the spout,
And they’ll live on half o’ nothing, paid ’em punctual once a week
’Cause the man that earns the wage is ordered out.
He’s an absent-minded beggar, but he heard his country call,
And his regiment didn’t need to send to find him!
He chucked his job and joined it—so the job before us all
Is to help the home that Tommy’s left behind him!
Duke’s job—cook’s job—gardener, baronet, groom,
Mews or palace or paper-shop, there’s someone gone away!
Each of ’em doing his country’s work
(and who’s to look after the room?)
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake,
and pay—pay—pay!

Let us manage so as, later, we can look him in the face,
And tell him—what he’d very much prefer—
That, while he saved the Empire, his employer saved his place
And his mates (that’s you and me) looked out for her.
He’s an absent-minded beggar and he may forget it all,
But we do not want his kiddies to remind him
That we sent ’em to the workhouse while their daddy hammered Paul,
So we’ll help the homes that Tommy left behind him!
Cook’s home—Duke’s home—home of a millionaire,
(Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!)
Each of ’em doing his country’s work
(and what have you got to spare?)
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake,

and pay—pay—pay!