diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:19:53 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:19:53 -0700 |
| commit | c7575bc3ee6d4ba11381649b3fde62164363ea7f (patch) | |
| tree | e50e470e2769121018043b269d0296481116d7a4 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2819-0.txt | 2482 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2819-h/2819-h.htm | 2852 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/barba10.txt | 2688 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/barba10.zip | bin | 0 -> 38771 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.txt | 2866 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 40778 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 42846 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h/2819-h.htm | 3244 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819.txt | 2864 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/old-2024-09-28/2819.zip | bin | 0 -> 40656 bytes |
13 files changed, 17012 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2819-0.txt b/2819-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad44cf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/2819-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2482 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2819 *** + + + + +BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + +First Series (1892) + + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +Dedication: To T. A. + + + +Contents: + + 1 Danny Deever + 2 Tommy + 3 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy' + 4 Soldier, Soldier + 5 Screw-Guns + 6 Cells + 7 Gunga Din + 8 Oonts + 9 Loot + 10 'Snarleyow' + 11 The Widow at Windsor + 12 Belts + 13 The Young British Soldier + 14 Mandalay + 15 Troopin' + 16 The Widow's Party + 17 Ford o' Kabul + 18 Gentlemen-Rankers + 19 Route Marchin' + 20 Shillin' a Day + + + Second Series (1896) + + 21 'Bobs' + 22 'Back to the Army Again' + 23 'Birds of Prey' March + 24 'Soldier an; Sailor Too' + 25 Sappers + 26 That Day + 27 'The Men that fought at Minden + 28 Cholera Camp + 29 The Ladies + 30 Bill 'Awkins + 31 The Mother Lodge + 32 'Follow Me 'Ome + 33 The Sergeant's Weddin' + 34 The Jacket + 35 The 'Eathen + 36 The Shut-Eye Sentry + 37 'Mary, Pity Women!' + 38 For to Admire + + + + + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + R. K. + + + + +Danny Deever + + “What are the bugles blowin' for?” said Files-on-Parade. + “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. + “I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square--they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade. + “A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound-- + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + + “'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'--you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What's that so black agin' the sun?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What's that that whimpers over'ead?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny's soul that's passin' now”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + + + +Tommy + + I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, + The publican 'e up an' sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” + The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, + I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, go away”; + But it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play. + + I went into a theatre as sober as could be, + They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; + They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, + But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, wait outside”; + But it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide. + + Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep + Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; + An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit + Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?” + But it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll. + + We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, + But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; + An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, + Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, fall be'ind”, + But it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind. + + You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: + We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. + Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face + The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Chuck him out, the brute!” + But it's “Saviour of 'is country” when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that Tommy sees! + + + + +Fuzzy-Wuzzy + + (Soudan Expeditionary Force) + + + We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: + The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. + We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, + 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + + We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, + The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: + But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; + We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + + 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, + So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: + When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, + An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + + 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; + 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. + 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, + 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air-- + You big black boundin' beggar--for you broke a British square! + + + + +Soldier, Soldier + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Why don't you march with my true love?” + “We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + What did you see o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did ye see no more o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly-- + But you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did aught take 'arm to my true love?” + “I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll up an' tend to my true love!” + “'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll down an' die with my true love!” + “The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Do you bring no sign from my true love?” + “I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!” + “An' I tell you truth again--when you've lost the feel o' pain + You'd best take me for your true love.” + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. + + + + +Screw-Guns + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, + With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets + It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + + They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: + We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: + We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, + For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; + If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. + You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. + D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, + We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, + An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains + The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules-- + the jinglety-jink o' the chains--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, + An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: + With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, + An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. + The monkey can say what our road was-- + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. + Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! + + + + +Cells + + I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: + I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, + But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, + And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, + But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. + 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; + But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + + I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, + And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; + They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, + But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + + My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, + It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room--it's that that cuts so hard. + I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, + But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + + + +Gunga Din + + You may talk o' gin and beer + When you're quartered safe out 'ere, + An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; + But when it comes to slaughter + You will do your work on water, + An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. + Now in Injia's sunny clime, + Where I used to spend my time + A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, + Of all them blackfaced crew + The finest man I knew + Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was “Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.” + + The uniform 'e wore + Was nothin' much before, + An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, + For a piece o' twisty rag + An' a goatskin water-bag + Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. + When the sweatin' troop-train lay + In a sidin' through the day, + Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, + We shouted “Harry By!” + Till our throats were bricky-dry, + Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!” + + 'E would dot an' carry one + Till the longest day was done; + An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. + If we charged or broke or cut, + You could bet your bloomin' nut, + 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. + With 'is mussick on 'is back, + 'E would skip with our attack, + An' watch us till the bugles made “Retire”, + An' for all 'is dirty 'ide + 'E was white, clear white, inside + When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was “Din! Din! Din!” + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + “Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!” + + I shan't forgit the night + When I dropped be'ind the fight + With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. + I was chokin' mad with thirst, + An' the man that spied me first + Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. + 'E lifted up my 'ead, + An' he plugged me where I bled, + An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: + It was crawlin' and it stunk, + But of all the drinks I've drunk, + I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!” + + 'E carried me away + To where a dooli lay, + An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. + 'E put me safe inside, + An' just before 'e died, + “I 'ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din. + So I'll meet 'im later on + At the place where 'e is gone-- + Where it's always double drill and no canteen; + 'E'll be squattin' on the coals + Givin' drink to poor damned souls, + An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! + + + + +Oonts + + (Northern India Transport Train) + + Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? + It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; + But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road + For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + + Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, + An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? + It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, + It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + + The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, + The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; + But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, + 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again--the beggar goes an' dies! + + 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight--'e smells most awful vile; + 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; + 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, + An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front-- + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + + So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, + An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, + Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: + 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. + + + + +Loot + + If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, + If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. + But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) + W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; + An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. + Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; + So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. + (Chorus) With the loot,... + + Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; + An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. + When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot!... + + When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs-- + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find-- + For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. + When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. + (Chorus) Ow the loot!... + + You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; + I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew-- + An' don't you never say I told you so. + An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! + (Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + + + +'Snarleyow' + + This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps + Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; + An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, + But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, + To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, + They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, + When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + + They cut 'im loose an' left 'im--'e was almost tore in two-- + But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; + 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: + “Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow--'is head's between 'is 'eels!” + + The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, + An' there ain't no “Stop, conductor!” when a batt'ry's changin' ground; + Sez 'e: “I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, + But I couldn't pull up, not for you--your 'ead between your 'eels!” + + 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell + A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; + An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, + There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + + Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, + “For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain.” + They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, + So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + + The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, + But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to “Action Front!” + An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head + 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + + The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: + You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen-- + You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons-- + If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + + + +The Widow at Windsor + + 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? + She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) + There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores-- + An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars!--barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + + Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: + We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars!--it's blue with our bones!) + Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, + For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says “Stop”! + (Poor beggars!--we're sent to say “Stop”!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs-- + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars!--it's always they guns!) + + We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: + For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars!--an' don't we get blown!) + Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; + But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars!--it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars!--they'll never see 'ome!) + + + + +Belts + + There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, + Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; + It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: + The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was:--“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + There was a row in Silver Street--the regiments was out, + They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!” + That drew them like a hornet's nest--we met them good an' large, + The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was:--“Belts...” + + There was a row in Silver Street--an' I was in it too; + We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! + I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm + A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--they sent the Polis there, + The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; + But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, + Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it might ha' raged till now, + But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; + 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: + An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--but that put down the shine, + Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!” + We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, + The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it isn't over yet, + For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; + 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: + There was a row in Silver Street--begod, I wonder why! + But it was:--“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + + + +The Young British Soldier + + When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East + 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, + An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, + You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, + An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier... + + First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, + For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts-- + Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts-- + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier... + + When the cholera comes--as it will past a doubt-- + Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, + For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier... + + But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: + You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: + If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier... + + If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, + Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; + Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier... + + Now, if you must marry, take care she is old-- + A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, + For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier... + + If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath + To shoot when you catch 'em--you'll swing, on my oath!-- + Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier... + + When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, + Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, + Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck, + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier... + + When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, + Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; + She's human as you are--you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier... + + When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, + The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, + Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier... + + If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, + Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: + So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier... + + When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, + And the women come out to cut up what remains, + Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + + + +Mandalay + + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, + There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; + For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: + “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!” + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, + An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, + An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, + An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud-- + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd-- + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay... + + When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, + She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing “Kulla-lo-lo!” + With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek + We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay... + + But that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away, + An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; + An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: + “If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.” + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay... + + I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, + An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; + Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, + An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and-- + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay... + + Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, + Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; + For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be-- + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + + + +Troopin' + + (Our Army in the East) + + Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: + 'Ere's September come again--the six-year men are free. + O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away + To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, + An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. + Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, + But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + + They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, + All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; + They'll kill us of pneumonia--for that's their little way-- + But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + + Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! + See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; + Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay-- + What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + + Troopin', troopin', give another cheer-- + 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. + The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, + Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle--Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + + + +The Widow's Party + + “Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They called us out of the barrack-yard + To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, + And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + “What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + A bit o' beef that were three year stored, + A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, + And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + And some was sliced and some was halved, + And some was crimped and some was carved, + And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They ate their whack and they drank their fill, + And I think the rations has made them ill, + For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + + “How did you get away--away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + I comed away like a bleedin' toff, + For I got four niggers to carry me off, + As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + We broke a King and we built a road-- + A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. + And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + + + +Ford o' Kabul River + + Kabul town's by Kabul river-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town's a blasted place-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town is sun and dust-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town was ours to take-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' left it for 'is sake-- + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + + Kabul town'll go to hell-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Fore I see him 'live an' well-- + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Turn your 'orse from Kabul town-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + + + +Gentlemen-Rankers + + To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, + Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. + Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, + And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, + To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. + Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be “Rider” to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, + When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you “Sir”. + + If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, + Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? + When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, + Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + + We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, + And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! + Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, + And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + + + +Route Marchin' + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, + A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”-- + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + + Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, + There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, + An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, + An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first,... + + At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, + Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. + But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, + While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first,... + + Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, + An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, + An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, + An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first,... + + It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, + To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, + For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, + So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first,... + + So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, + There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; + An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, + You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first,... + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, + Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”-- + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + + + + +Shillin' a Day + + My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly + From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, + Hong-Kong and Peshawur, + Lucknow and Etawah, + And fifty-five more all endin' in “pore”. + Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, + Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, + But I'm old and I'm nervis, + I'm cast from the Service, + And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay-- + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + + Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I + Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, + When we rode Hell-for-leather + Both squadrons together, + That didn't care whether we lived or we died. + But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' + An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, + So if me you be'old + In the wet and the cold, + By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter-- + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'--runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an'---- + + Gawd save the Queen. + + + + + +Second Series (1896) + + + + +'Bobs' + + There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, + Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, + If it bucks or kicks or rears, + 'E can sit for twenty years + With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's our pukka Kandahader- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; + 'E's the man that done us well, + An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + + If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. + If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. + For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, + An' a bugle in 'is throat, + An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + + 'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; + But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? + So we will not complain + Tho' 'e's water on the brain, + If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + + If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, + You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. + 'E's been at it thirty years, + An' amassin' souveneers + In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + + What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, + You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? + Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; + 'E's a terror for 'is size, + An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + + Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, + Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? + So 'e'll wear a coronet + Where 'is 'elmet used to set; + But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur-- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder-- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + This ain't no bloomin' ode, + But you've 'elped the soldier's load, + An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! + + + + +'Back to the Army Again' + + I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, + A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; + My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, + An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + + I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: “Good-day-- + You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; + An' fourpence a day for baccy--an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; + An' now you can make your fortune--the same as your orf'cers do.” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + + A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade-- + Beside “Reserve” agin' him--'e'd better be never made. + I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, + An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt-- + I'm back to the Army again! + + The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, + 'E sez to me, “'Shun!” an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; + For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight + When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I took my bath, an' I wallered--for, Gawd, I needed it so! + I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. + I 'eard the feet on the gravel--the feet o' the men what drill-- + An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, “Peace, be still!” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, “None o' your lip! + You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, + For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid.” An' 'e sez to me, “Strike me dead, + But I thought you was used to the business!” an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot--me? + I'm back to the Army again! + + Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; + They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again + In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, + An'--any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? + A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made-- + A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade--parade! + You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, + But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! + + + + +'Birds of Prey' March + + March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front!--eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. + Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time!--mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. + Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er-- + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + + March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. + 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out--a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on--Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + + Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ['Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) + You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow-- + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + + 'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! + Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + + Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'-- + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, + 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ['Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ['Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + + + +'Soldier an' Sailor Too' + + As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, + I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. + 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, “'Oo are you?” + Sez 'e, “I'm a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too!” + Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; + 'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. + 'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite--soldier an' sailor too! + + An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, + Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; + 'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, + An' 'e sweats like a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too! + For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do-- + You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe-- + 'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse--soldier an' sailor too. + + We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, + When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; + But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, + We sent for the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, + But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. + Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes--soldier an' sailor too. + + You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, + Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; + But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, + The same as the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; + Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; + For they weren't no special chrysanthemums--soldier an' sailor too! + + To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, + Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; + But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; + Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, + So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + + We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, + But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). + But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, + When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know-- + they 'ave proved it plain and true-- + That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + + + + +Sappers + + When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, + 'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + + But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, + Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + + When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, + Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + + When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, + Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + + When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, + They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + + For ever since then, if a war they would wage, + Behold us a-shinin' on history's page-- + First page for, etc. + + We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, + An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + + They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine + To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + + They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, + To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + + We work under escort in trousers and shirt, + An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + + We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, + We make 'em good roads an'--they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + + We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, + An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + + An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, + They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + + We build 'em nice barracks--they swear they are bad, + That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + + They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, + For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + + Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, + An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + + Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, + But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + + I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + There's only one Corps which is perfect--that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + + + +That Day + + It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. + 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out--an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, + An' some one shouted “'Ook it!” an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us--O my Gawd! + + There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep-- + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; + But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + + I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, + Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an'--it was me! + + We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; + An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + + We was rotten 'fore we started--we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; + Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin'--an' we paid! + + The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, + An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song--because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + + + +'The Men that fought at Minden' + +A Song of Instruction + + The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time-- + So was them that fought at Waterloo! + All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; + But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + + The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; + But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; + But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; + I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, + But spent it gay an' free on their betters--such as me-- + For the good advice I gave. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was civil--yuss, they was-- + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, + But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it--so!)-- + For interrupting songs. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; + But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you-- + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you-- + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw--Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! + + + + +Cholera Camp + + We've got the cholerer in camp--it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; + It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin'-- + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us-- + To 'ear us-- + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + + Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, + Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; + But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; + An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + + There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; + It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; + An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, + “Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!” + + 'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things-- + Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, + An' Lances actin' Sergeants--eight file to obey-- + For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + + Our Colonel's white an' twitterly--'e gets no sleep nor food, + But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. + 'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay-- + But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + + Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, + An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! + With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! + 'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + + An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks-- + He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; + An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; + So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + + We've got the cholerer in camp--we've got it 'ot an' sweet; + It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. + We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, + An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere--some way--some'ow-- + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners--so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike--oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) + + + + +The Ladies + + I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; + I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. + One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, + One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + + I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; + Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; + Older than me, but my first un-- + More like a mother she were-- + Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, + An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. + Funny an' yellow an' faithful-- + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), + An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; + 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, + For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen-- + Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. + Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; + An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But--I learned about women from 'er! + + I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, + For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; + An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; + So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins-- + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! + + + + +Bill 'Awkins + + “'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now 'ow in the devil would I know?” + “'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I've got to tell 'im so.” + + “D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now what in the devil would I care?” + “'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air.” + + “An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?” + “I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!” + + “Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?” + “It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!” + + + + +The Mother-Lodge + + There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, + An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; + An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, + With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside--“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside--“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, + An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; + There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, + An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + + We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, + But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; + An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, + There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + + For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke + (We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), + An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, + An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + + So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred + Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; + We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, + With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + + Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, + An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, + Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, + But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + + I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, + With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; + An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, + Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside--“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside--“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + + + +'Follow Me 'Ome' + + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; + An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, + An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; + An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog--last week it were-- + No more than a round or two; + But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; + But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's “Three rounds blank” an' follow me, + An' it's “Thirteen rank” an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + + + +The Sergeant's Weddin' + + 'E was warned agin' 'er-- + That's what made 'im look; + She was warned agin' 'im-- + That is why she took. + 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; + We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? + 'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. + 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! + 'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + + Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by-- + Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop--u--lar--i--ty! + We 'ave scores to settle-- + Scores for more than beer; + She's the girl to pay 'em-- + That is why we're 'ere! + + See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? + Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? + Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. + Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + + Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, + “'Voice that breathed o'er Eden”-- + Ain't she got the cheek! + White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! + I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + + Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! + Chuck the slippers after-- + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) + Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad-- + 'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + + +The Jacket + + Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; + An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new-- + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + + One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; + But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. + An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + “Will you draw the weight,” sez 'e, “or will you draw the beer?” + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; + But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: + So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + + So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; + An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! + We limbered up an' galloped--there were nothin' else to do-- + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + + We was goin' most extended--we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, + Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. + Then we give 'em quarter--such as 'adn't up and cut, + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy--somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. + There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. + + + + +The 'Eathen + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, + An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + The young recruit is 'aughty--'e draf's from Gawd knows where; + They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; + 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense--'e doesn't know no more-- + An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + + The young recruit is 'ammered--'e takes it very 'ard; + 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters--'e sulks about the yard; + 'E talks o' “cruel tyrants” 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, + An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + + The young recruit is silly--'e thinks o' suicide; + 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; + But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, + Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + + The young recruit is 'appy--'e throws a chest to suit; + You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; + 'E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word 'e slings, + An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + + The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; + They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; + They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, + And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for “Lance”. + + An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, + 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; + They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, + But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + + An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, + 'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; + They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, + An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + + 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; + 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; + 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; + An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + + An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, + An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; + 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; + 'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + + 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; + 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; + 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, + An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + + An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, + An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; + So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, + They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + + Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much + Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. + It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, + But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + + An' now it's “'Oo goes backward?” an' now it's “'Oo comes on?” + And now it's “Get the doolies,” an' now the captain's gone; + An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear + 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + + 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, + But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; + The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, + An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness--keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + + + + +The Shut-Eye Sentry + + Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: + “Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. + For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, + So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along.” + + So it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + + The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, + An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. + An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, + But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + + 'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, + An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; + But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, + When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been “Rounds! What Rounds?” Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” 'E's called me “Darlin' Jane”! + 'E'll need, etc. + + The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, + An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. + Our men was good old trusties-- + They'd done it on their 'ead; + But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was “Right flank--wheel!” for “'Alt, an' stand at ease!” + An' “Left extend!” for “Centre close!” O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, “'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!” + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + + There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, + There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. + There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, + But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + + There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, + But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. + I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, + But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is “Rounds! What Rounds?” 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is “Pass! All's well!” An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! + + + + +'Mary, Pity Women!' + + You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, + An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care-- + You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over-- + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + + It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; + You--you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run + With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + + What 'ope for me or--it? + What's left for us to do? + I've walked with men a bit, + But this--but this is you. + So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? + You coward through and through!... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'-- + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + + You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? + We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name--no more-- + The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! + + + + +For to Admire + + The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. + The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; + An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!” + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, + I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. + I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, + Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + + The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, + I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; + For they was odd--most awful odd-- + But all the same now they are o'er, + There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + + Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, + An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. + I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, + But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + + Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears + Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! + I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, + A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + + My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. + They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest-- + With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. + I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2819 *** diff --git a/2819-h/2819-h.htm b/2819-h/2819-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ff74e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/2819-h/2819-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2852 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Barrack-room Ballads | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:10%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2819 ***</div> + <h1> + BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Dedication: To T. A. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkfirst"> <b>First Series (1892)</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Danny Deever </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> Tommy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> Fuzzy-Wuzzy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Soldier, Soldier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Screw-Guns </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Cells </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> Gunga Din </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Oonts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Loot </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 'Snarleyow' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> The Widow at Windsor </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Belts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> The Young British Soldier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> Mandalay </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Troopin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> The Widow's Party </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Ford o' Kabul River </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Gentlemen-Rankers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Route Marchin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Shillin' a Day </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> <b>Second Series (1896)</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> 'Bobs' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> 'Back to the Army Again' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 'Birds of Prey' March </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 'Soldier an' Salor Too' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> Sappers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> That Day </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 'The Men that fought at Minden' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Cholera Camp </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> The Ladies </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Bill 'Awkins </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> The Mother-Lodge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> 'Follow Me 'Ome' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> The Sergeant's Weddin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkjacket"> The Jacket </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> The 'Eathen </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> The Shut-Eye Sentry </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> 'Mary, Pity Women!' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> For to Admire </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + R. K. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linkfirst" id="linkfirst"></a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + First Series (1892) + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Danny Deever + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What are the bugles blowin' for?” said Files-on-Parade. + “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. + “I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square—they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade. + “A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound— + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + + “'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'—you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What's that so black agin' the sun?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What's that that whimpers over'ead?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny's soul that's passin' now”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Tommy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, + The publican 'e up an' sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” + The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, + I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, go away”; + But it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play. + + I went into a theatre as sober as could be, + They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; + They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, + But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, wait outside”; + But it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide. + + Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep + Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; + An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit + Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?” + But it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll. + + We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, + But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; + An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, + Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, fall be'ind”, + But it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind. + + You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: + We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. + Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face + The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Chuck him out, the brute!” + But it's “Saviour of 'is country” when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool—you bet that Tommy sees! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Fuzzy-Wuzzy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Soudan Expeditionary Force) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: + The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. + We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, + 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + + We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, + The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: + But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; + We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + + 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, + So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: + When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, + An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + + 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; + 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. + 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, + 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air— + You big black boundin' beggar—for you broke a British square! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Soldier, Soldier + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Why don't you march with my true love?” + “We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + What did you see o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did ye see no more o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly— + But you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did aught take 'arm to my true love?” + “I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white— + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll up an' tend to my true love!” + “'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll down an' die with my true love!” + “The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im— + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Do you bring no sign from my true love?” + “I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!” + “An' I tell you truth again—when you've lost the feel o' pain + You'd best take me for your true love.” + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Screw-Guns + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, + With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets + It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do—hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender— + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + + They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: + We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: + We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, + For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; + If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. + You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. + D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, + We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, + An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains + The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules— + the jinglety-jink o' the chains—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, + An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: + With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, + An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. + The monkey can say what our road was— + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. + Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do—hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender— + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Cells + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: + I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, + But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, + And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard— + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, + But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. + 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; + But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + + I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, + And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; + They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, + But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + + My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, + It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room—it's that that cuts so hard. + I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, + But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard— + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Gunga Din + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You may talk o' gin and beer + When you're quartered safe out 'ere, + An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; + But when it comes to slaughter + You will do your work on water, + An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. + Now in Injia's sunny clime, + Where I used to spend my time + A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, + Of all them blackfaced crew + The finest man I knew + Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was “Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.” + + The uniform 'e wore + Was nothin' much before, + An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, + For a piece o' twisty rag + An' a goatskin water-bag + Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. + When the sweatin' troop-train lay + In a sidin' through the day, + Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, + We shouted “Harry By!” + Till our throats were bricky-dry, + Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!” + + 'E would dot an' carry one + Till the longest day was done; + An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. + If we charged or broke or cut, + You could bet your bloomin' nut, + 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. + With 'is mussick on 'is back, + 'E would skip with our attack, + An' watch us till the bugles made “Retire”, + An' for all 'is dirty 'ide + 'E was white, clear white, inside + When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was “Din! Din! Din!” + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + “Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!” + + I shan't forgit the night + When I dropped be'ind the fight + With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. + I was chokin' mad with thirst, + An' the man that spied me first + Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. + 'E lifted up my 'ead, + An' he plugged me where I bled, + An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: + It was crawlin' and it stunk, + But of all the drinks I've drunk, + I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!” + + 'E carried me away + To where a dooli lay, + An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. + 'E put me safe inside, + An' just before 'e died, + “I 'ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din. + So I'll meet 'im later on + At the place where 'e is gone— + Where it's always double drill and no canteen; + 'E'll be squattin' on the coals + Givin' drink to poor damned souls, + An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Oonts + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Northern India Transport Train) + + Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? + It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; + But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road + For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + + Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, + An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? + It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, + It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + + The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, + The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; + But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, + 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again—the beggar goes an' dies! + + 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight—'e smells most awful vile; + 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; + 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, + An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front— + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + + So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, + An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, + Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: + 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Loot + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, + If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. + But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) + W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the— + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; + An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. + Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; + So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. + (Chorus) With the loot,... + + Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; + An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. + When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the— + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot!... + + When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs— + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find— + For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. + When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. + (Chorus) Ow the loot!... + + You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; + I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew— + An' don't you never say I told you so. + An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! + (Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Snarleyow' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps + Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; + An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, + But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, + To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, + They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, + When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + + They cut 'im loose an' left 'im—'e was almost tore in two— + But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; + 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: + “Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow—'is head's between 'is 'eels!” + + The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, + An' there ain't no “Stop, conductor!” when a batt'ry's changin' ground; + Sez 'e: “I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, + But I couldn't pull up, not for you—your 'ead between your 'eels!” + + 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell + A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; + An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, + There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + + Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, + “For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain.” + They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, + So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + + The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, + But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to “Action Front!” + An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head + 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + + The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: + You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen— + You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons— + If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Widow at Windsor + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? + She 'as ships on the foam—she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) + There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores— + An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars!—barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + + Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: + We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars!—it's blue with our bones!) + Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, + For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says “Stop”! + (Poor beggars!—we're sent to say “Stop”!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs— + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars!—it's always they guns!) + + We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: + For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars!—an' don't we get blown!) + Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; + But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars!—it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars!—they'll never see 'ome!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Belts + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, + Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; + It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: + The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + There was a row in Silver Street—the regiments was out, + They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!” + That drew them like a hornet's nest—we met them good an' large, + The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was:—“Belts...” + + There was a row in Silver Street—an' I was in it too; + We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! + I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm + A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—they sent the Polis there, + The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; + But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, + Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—it might ha' raged till now, + But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; + 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: + An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—but that put down the shine, + Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!” + We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, + The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—it isn't over yet, + For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; + 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: + There was a row in Silver Street—begod, I wonder why! + But it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Young British Soldier + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East + 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, + An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, + You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, + An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier... + + First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, + For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts— + Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts— + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier... + + When the cholera comes—as it will past a doubt— + Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, + For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier... + + But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: + You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: + If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier... + + If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, + Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; + Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier... + + Now, if you must marry, take care she is old— + A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, + For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier... + + If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath + To shoot when you catch 'em—you'll swing, on my oath!— + Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier... + + When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, + Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, + Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck, + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier... + + When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, + Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; + She's human as you are—you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier... + + When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, + The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, + Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier... + + If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, + Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: + So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier... + + When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, + And the women come out to cut up what remains, + Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Mandalay + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, + There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; + For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: + “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!” + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, + An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat—jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, + An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, + An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud— + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd— + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay... + + When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, + She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing “Kulla-lo-lo!” + With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek + We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay... + + But that's all shove be'ind me—long ago an' fur away, + An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; + An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: + “If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.” + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay... + + I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, + An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; + Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, + An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and— + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay... + + Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, + Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; + For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be— + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Troopin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Our Army in the East) + + Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: + 'Ere's September come again—the six-year men are free. + O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away + To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, + An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. + Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, + But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + + They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, + All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; + They'll kill us of pneumonia—for that's their little way— + But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + + Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! + See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; + Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay— + What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + + Troopin', troopin', give another cheer— + 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. + The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, + Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle—Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Widow's Party + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They called us out of the barrack-yard + To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, + And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!) + + “What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + A bit o' beef that were three year stored, + A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, + And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + And some was sliced and some was halved, + And some was crimped and some was carved, + And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They ate their whack and they drank their fill, + And I think the rations has made them ill, + For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + + “How did you get away—away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + I comed away like a bleedin' toff, + For I got four niggers to carry me off, + As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + We broke a King and we built a road— + A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. + And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Ford o' Kabul River + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Kabul town's by Kabul river— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town's a blasted place— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town is sun and dust— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town was ours to take— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + I'd ha' left it for 'is sake— + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + + Kabul town'll go to hell— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Fore I see him 'live an' well— + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Turn your 'orse from Kabul town— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Gentlemen-Rankers + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, + Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. + Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, + And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa—aa—aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, + To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. + Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be “Rider” to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, + When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you “Sir”. + + If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, + Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? + When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, + Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + + We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, + And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! + Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, + And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa—aa—aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Route Marchin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, + A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”— + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + + Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, + There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, + An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, + An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first,... + + At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, + Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. + But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, + While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first,... + + Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, + An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, + An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, + An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first,... + + It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, + To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, + For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, + So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first,... + + So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, + There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; + An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, + You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first,... + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, + Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”— + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Shillin' a Day + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly + From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, + Hong-Kong and Peshawur, + Lucknow and Etawah, + And fifty-five more all endin' in “pore”. + Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, + Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, + But I'm old and I'm nervis, + I'm cast from the Service, + And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay— + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + + Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I + Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, + When we rode Hell-for-leather + Both squadrons together, + That didn't care whether we lived or we died. + But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' + An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, + So if me you be'old + In the wet and the cold, + By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter— + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'—runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an'—— + + Gawd save the Queen. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + Second Series (1896) + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Bobs' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, + Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, + If it bucks or kicks or rears, + 'E can sit for twenty years + With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's our pukka Kandahader- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; + 'E's the man that done us well, + An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + + If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. + If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. + For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, + An' a bugle in 'is throat, + An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + + 'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; + But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? + So we will not complain + Tho' 'e's water on the brain, + If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + + If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, + You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. + 'E's been at it thirty years, + An' amassin' souveneers + In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + + What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, + You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? + Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; + 'E's a terror for 'is size, + An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + + Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, + Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? + So 'e'll wear a coronet + Where 'is 'elmet used to set; + But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur— + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder— + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + This ain't no bloomin' ode, + But you've 'elped the soldier's load, + An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Back to the Army Again' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, + A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; + My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, + An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + + I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: “Good-day— + You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; + An' fourpence a day for baccy—an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; + An' now you can make your fortune—the same as your orf'cers do.” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + + A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade— + Beside “Reserve” agin' him—'e'd better be never made. + I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, + An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt— + I'm back to the Army again! + + The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, + 'E sez to me, “'Shun!” an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; + For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight + When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I took my bath, an' I wallered—for, Gawd, I needed it so! + I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. + I 'eard the feet on the gravel—the feet o' the men what drill— + An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, “Peace, be still!” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, “None o' your lip! + You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, + For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid.” An' 'e sez to me, “Strike me dead, + But I thought you was used to the business!” an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot—me? + I'm back to the Army again! + + Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; + They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again + In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, + An'—any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? + A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made— + A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade—parade! + You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, + But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Birds of Prey' March + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front!—eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. + Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time!—mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. + Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er— + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + + March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. + 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out—a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on—Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + + Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ('Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) + You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow— + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + + 'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! + Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + + Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'— + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, + 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Soldier an' Sailor Too' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, + I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. + 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, “'Oo are you?” + Sez 'e, “I'm a Jolly—'Er Majesty's Jolly—soldier an' sailor too!” + Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; + 'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. + 'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite—soldier an' sailor too! + + An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, + Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; + 'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, + An' 'e sweats like a Jolly—'Er Majesty's Jolly—soldier an' sailor too! + For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do— + You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe— + 'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse—soldier an' sailor too. + + We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, + When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; + But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, + We sent for the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, + But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. + Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes—soldier an' sailor too. + + You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, + Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; + But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, + The same as the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; + Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; + For they weren't no special chrysanthemums—soldier an' sailor too! + + To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, + Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; + But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, + An' they done it, the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies— + soldier an' sailor too! + Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; + Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, + So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + + We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, + But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). + But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, + When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know— + they 'ave proved it plain and true— + That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, + An' they done it, the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies— + soldier an' sailor too! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Sappers + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, + 'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + + But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, + Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + + When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, + Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + + When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, + Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + + When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, + They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + + For ever since then, if a war they would wage, + Behold us a-shinin' on history's page— + First page for, etc. + + We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, + An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + + They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine + To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + + They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, + To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + + We work under escort in trousers and shirt, + An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + + We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, + We make 'em good roads an'—they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + + We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, + An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + + An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, + They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + + We build 'em nice barracks—they swear they are bad, + That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + + They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, + For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + + Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, + An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + + Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, + But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + + I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + There's only one Corps which is perfect—that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + That Day + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. + 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out—an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, + An' some one shouted “'Ook it!” an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us—O my Gawd! + + There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep— + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; + But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + + I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, + Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an'—it was me! + + We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; + An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + + We was rotten 'fore we started—we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; + Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin'—an' we paid! + + The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, + An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song—because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'The Men that fought at Minden' + </h2> + <div style="text-align: center;">A Song of Instruction</div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time— + So was them that fought at Waterloo! + All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; + But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + + The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; + But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; + But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; + I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, + But spent it gay an' free on their betters—such as me— + For the good advice I gave. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was civil—yuss, they was— + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, + But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it—so!)— + For interrupting songs. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; + But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you— + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you— + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw—Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Cholera Camp + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We've got the cholerer in camp—it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; + It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin'— + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us— + To 'ear us— + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + + Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, + Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; + But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; + An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + + There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; + It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; + An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, + “Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!” + + 'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things— + Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, + An' Lances actin' Sergeants—eight file to obey— + For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + + Our Colonel's white an' twitterly—'e gets no sleep nor food, + But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. + 'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay— + But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + + Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, + An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! + With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! + 'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + + An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks— + He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; + An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; + So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + + We've got the cholerer in camp—we've got it 'ot an' sweet; + It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. + We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, + An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere—some way—some'ow— + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners—so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike—oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Ladies + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; + I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. + One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, + One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + + I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; + Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; + Older than me, but my first un— + More like a mother she were— + Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, + An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. + Funny an' yellow an' faithful— + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), + An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; + 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, + For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen— + Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. + Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; + An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But—I learned about women from 'er! + + I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, + For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; + An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; + So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins— + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Bill 'Awkins + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now 'ow in the devil would I know?” + “'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so— + Gawd—bless—'im! + I've got to tell 'im so.” + + “D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now what in the devil would I care?” + “'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air— + Gawd—bless—'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air.” + + “An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?” + “I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too— + Gawd—bless—'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!” + + “Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?” + “It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day— + Gawd—bless—'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Mother-Lodge + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, + An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; + An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, + With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside—“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, + An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; + There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, + An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + + We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, + But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; + An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, + There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + + For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke + (We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), + An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, + An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + + So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred + Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; + We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, + With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + + Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, + An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, + Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, + But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + + I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, + With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; + An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, + Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside—“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Follow Me 'Ome' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; + An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me—follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, + An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; + An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog—last week it were— + No more than a round or two; + But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; + But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me—follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's “Three rounds blank” an' follow me, + An' it's “Thirteen rank” an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me—follow me 'ome! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Sergeant's Weddin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'E was warned agin' 'er— + That's what made 'im look; + She was warned agin' 'im— + That is why she took. + 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; + We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? + 'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. + 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! + 'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + + Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by— + Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop—u—lar—i—ty! + We 'ave scores to settle— + Scores for more than beer; + She's the girl to pay 'em— + That is why we're 'ere! + + See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? + Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? + Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. + Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + + Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, + “'Voice that breathed o'er Eden”— + Ain't she got the cheek! + White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! + I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + + Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! + Chuck the slippers after— + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) + Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad— + 'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="linkjacket" id="linkjacket"></a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Jacket + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; + An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new— + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + + One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; + But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. + An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + “Will you draw the weight,” sez 'e, “or will you draw the beer?” + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; + But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: + So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + + So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; + An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! + We limbered up an' galloped—there were nothin' else to do— + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + + We was goin' most extended—we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, + Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. + Then we give 'em quarter—such as 'adn't up and cut, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy—somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. + There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The 'Eathen + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, + An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + The young recruit is 'aughty—'e draf's from Gawd knows where; + They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; + 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense—'e doesn't know no more— + An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + + The young recruit is 'ammered—'e takes it very 'ard; + 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters—'e sulks about the yard; + 'E talks o' “cruel tyrants” 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, + An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + + The young recruit is silly—'e thinks o' suicide; + 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; + But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, + Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + + The young recruit is 'appy—'e throws a chest to suit; + You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; + 'E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word 'e slings, + An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + + The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; + They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; + They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, + And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for “Lance”. + + An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, + 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; + They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, + But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + + An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, + 'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; + They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, + An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + + 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; + 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; + 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; + An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + + An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, + An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; + 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; + 'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + + 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; + 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; + 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, + An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + + An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, + An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; + So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, + They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + + Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much + Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. + It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, + But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + + An' now it's “'Oo goes backward?” an' now it's “'Oo comes on?” + And now it's “Get the doolies,” an' now the captain's gone; + An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear + 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + + 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, + But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; + The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, + An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness—keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Shut-Eye Sentry + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: + “Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. + For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, + So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along.” + + So it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + + The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, + An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. + An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, + But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + + 'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, + An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; + But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, + When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been “Rounds! What Rounds?” Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” 'E's called me “Darlin' Jane”! + 'E'll need, etc. + + The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, + An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. + Our men was good old trusties— + They'd done it on their 'ead; + But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was “Right flank—wheel!” for “'Alt, an' stand at ease!” + An' “Left extend!” for “Centre close!” O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, “'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!” + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + + There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, + There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. + There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, + But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + + There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, + But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. + I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, + But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is “Rounds! What Rounds?” 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is “Pass! All's well!” An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Mary, Pity Women!' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, + An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care— + You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over— + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + + It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; + You—you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run + With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + + What 'ope for me or—it? + What's left for us to do? + I've walked with men a bit, + But this—but this is you. + So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? + You coward through and through!... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'— + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + + You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? + We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name—no more— + The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + For to Admire + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. + The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; + An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!” + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide— + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, + I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. + I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, + Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + + The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, + I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; + For they was odd—most awful odd— + But all the same now they are o'er, + There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + + Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, + An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. + I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, + But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + + Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears + Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! + I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, + A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + + My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. + They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest— + With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. + I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide— + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! +</pre> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 2819 ***</div> + </body> +</html> + diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cc53c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #2819 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2819) diff --git a/old/barba10.txt b/old/barba10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..31cb2b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/barba10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2688 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + +*It must legally be the first thing seen when opening the book.* +In fact, our legal advisors said we can't even change margins. + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Title: Barrack-Room Ballads + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +September, 2001 [Etext 2819] +[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule.] + + +Project Gutenberg Etext Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling +******This file should be named barba10.txt or barba10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, barba11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, barba10a.txt + + +Prepared by David Reed haradda@aol.com or davidr@inconnect.com + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp metalab.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext01, etc. +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +We are planning on making some changes in our donation structure +in 2000, so you might want to email me, hart@pobox.com beforehand. + + + + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Prepared by David Reed haradda@aol.com or davidr@inconnect.com + + + + + +BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + +by RUDYARD KIPLING + + + + +First Series (1892) + + + +Dedication: To T. A. + +1 Danny Deever +2 Tommy +3 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy' +4 Soldier, Soldier +5 Screw-Guns +6 Cells +7 Gunga Din +8 Oonts +9 Loot +10 'Snarleyow' +11 The Widow at Windsor +12 Belts +13 The Young British Soldier +14 Mandalay +15 Troopin' +16 The Widow's Party +17 Ford o' Kabul +18 Gentlemen-Rankers +19 Route Marchin' +20 Shillin' a Day + + +Second Series (1896) + +21 'Bobs' +22 'Back to the Army Again' +23 'Birds of Prey' March +24 'Soldier an; Sailor Too' +25 Sappers +26 That Day +27 'The Men that fought at Minden +28 Cholera Camp +29 The Ladies +30 Bill 'Awkins +31 The Mother Lodge +32 'Follow Me 'Ome +33 The Sergeant's Weddin' +34 The Jacket +35 The 'Eathen +36 The Shut-Eye Sentry +37 'Mary, Pity Women!' +38 For to Admire + + + + + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + R. K. + + + + +Danny Deever + +"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade. +"To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said. +"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade. +"I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square -- they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + +"What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade. +"It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said. +"What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade. +"A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun", the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound -- + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + +"'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade. +"'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said. +"I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times", said Files-on-Parade. +"'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' -- you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + +"What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade. +"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said. +"What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade. +"It's Danny's soul that's passin' now", the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + +Tommy + +I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, +The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." +The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, +I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away"; + But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play. + +I went into a theatre as sober as could be, +They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; +They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, +But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside"; + But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide. + +Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep +Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; +An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit +Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?" + But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll. + +We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, +But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; +An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, +Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind", + But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind. + +You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: +We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. +Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face +The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!" + But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees! + + +Fuzzy-Wuzzy + +(Soudan Expeditionary Force) + + +We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: +The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. +We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, +'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + +We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, +The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: +But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; +We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + +'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, +So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: +When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, +An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + +'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; +'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. +'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, +'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -- + You big black boundin' beggar -- for you broke a British square! + + +Soldier, Soldier + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +Why don't you march with my true love?" +"We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +What did you see o' my true love?" +"I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +Did ye see no more o' my true love?" +"I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly -- +But you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +Did aught take 'arm to my true love?" +"I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white -- +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +I'll up an' tend to my true love!" +"'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +I'll down an' die with my true love!" +"The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im -- +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +Do you bring no sign from my true love?" +"I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, +An' you'd best go look for a new love." + +"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, +O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!" +"An' I tell you truth again -- when you've lost the feel o' pain +You'd best take me for your true love." + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. + + +Screw-Guns + +Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, +I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, +With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets +It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns -- the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do -- hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender -- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + +They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: +We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: +We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, +For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns . . . + +If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; +If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. +You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. +D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns . . . + +The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, +We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, +An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains +The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules -- + the jinglety-jink o' the chains -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns . . . + +There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, +An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: +With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, +An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns . . . + +Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, +I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. +The monkey can say what our road was -- + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. +Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast -- 'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns -- the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do -- hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender -- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! + +Cells + +I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: +I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, +But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, +And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard!" + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard -- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard." + +I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, +But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. +'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; +But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + +I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, +And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; +They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, +But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + +My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, +It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room -- it's that that cuts so hard. +I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, +But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard!" + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard -- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard." + + + +Gunga Din + +You may talk o' gin and beer +When you're quartered safe out 'ere, +An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; +But when it comes to slaughter +You will do your work on water, +An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. +Now in Injia's sunny clime, +Where I used to spend my time +A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, +Of all them blackfaced crew +The finest man I knew +Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was "Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din." + +The uniform 'e wore +Was nothin' much before, +An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, +For a piece o' twisty rag +An' a goatskin water-bag +Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. +When the sweatin' troop-train lay +In a sidin' through the day, +Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, +We shouted "Harry By!" +Till our throats were bricky-dry, +Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was "Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!" + +'E would dot an' carry one +Till the longest day was done; +An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. +If we charged or broke or cut, +You could bet your bloomin' nut, +'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. +With 'is mussick on 'is back, +'E would skip with our attack, +An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire", +An' for all 'is dirty 'ide +'E was white, clear white, inside +When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was "Din! Din! Din!" + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!" + +I shan't forgit the night +When I dropped be'ind the fight +With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. +I was chokin' mad with thirst, +An' the man that spied me first +Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. +'E lifted up my 'ead, +An' he plugged me where I bled, +An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: +It was crawlin' and it stunk, +But of all the drinks I've drunk, +I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was "Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!" + +'E carried me away +To where a dooli lay, +An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. +'E put me safe inside, +An' just before 'e died, +"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din. +So I'll meet 'im later on +At the place where 'e is gone -- +Where it's always double drill and no canteen; +'E'll be squattin' on the coals +Givin' drink to poor damned souls, +An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! + + + +Oonts + +(Northern India Transport Train) + +Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? +It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; +But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road +For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + +Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, +An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? +It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, +It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + +The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, +The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; +But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, +'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again -- the beggar goes an' dies! + +'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight -- 'e smells most awful vile; +'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; +'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, +An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front -- + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + +So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, +An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, +Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: +'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. + + + +Loot + +If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, +If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. +But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) +W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the -- +(Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + +If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; +An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. +Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; +So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. +(Chorus) With the loot, . . . + +Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; +An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. +When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) -- +When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the -- +(Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! . . . + +When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs -- + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find -- +For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. +When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) -- +Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. +(Chorus) Ow the loot! . . . + +You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; +I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew -- + An' don't you never say I told you so. +An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) -- +So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! +(Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + +'Snarleyow' + +This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps +Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; +An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, +But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + +They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, +To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, +They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, +When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + +They cut 'im loose an' left 'im -- 'e was almost tore in two -- +But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; +'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: +"Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow -- 'is head's between 'is 'eels!" + +The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, +An' there ain't no "Stop, conductor!" when a batt'ry's changin' ground; +Sez 'e: "I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, +But I couldn't pull up, not for you -- your 'ead between your 'eels!" + +'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell +A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; +An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, +There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + +Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, +"For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain." +They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, +So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + +The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, +But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to "Action Front!" +An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head +'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + +The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: +You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen -- +You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons -- +If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + +The Widow at Windsor + +'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? +She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) +There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores -- +An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + +Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: +We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars! -- it's blue with our bones!) +Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, +For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"! + (Poor beggars! -- we're sent to say "Stop"!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs -- + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars! -- it's always they guns!) + +We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: +For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars! -- an' don't we get blown!) +Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; +But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars! -- it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars! -- they'll never see 'ome!) + + + +Belts + +There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, +Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; +It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: +The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was: -- "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!" + An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!" + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + +There was a row in Silver Street -- the regiments was out, +They called us "Delhi Rebels", an' we answered "Threes about!" +That drew them like a hornet's nest -- we met them good an' large, +The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was: -- "Belts . . . + +There was a row in Silver Street -- an' I was in it too; +We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! +I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm +A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was: -- "Belts . . . + +There was a row in Silver Street -- they sent the Polis there, +The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; +But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, +Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was: -- "Belts . . . + +There was a row in Silver Street -- it might ha' raged till now, +But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; +'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: +An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was: -- "Belts . . . + +There was a row in Silver Street -- but that put down the shine, +Wid each man whisperin' to his next: "'Twas never work o' mine!" +We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, +The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was: -- "Belts . . . + +There was a row in Silver Street -- it isn't over yet, +For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; +'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: +There was a row in Silver Street -- begod, I wonder why! + But it was: -- "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!" + An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!" + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + +The Young British Soldier + +When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East +'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, +An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + +Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, +You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, +An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . . + +First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, +For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts -- +Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts -- + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . . + +When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt -- +Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, +For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . . + +But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: +You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: +If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . . + +If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, +Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; +Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . . + +Now, if you must marry, take care she is old -- +A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, +For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . . + +If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath +To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! -- +Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . . + +When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, +Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, +Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier . . . + +When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, +Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; +She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . . + +When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, +The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, +Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . . + +If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, +Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: +So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . . + +When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, +And the women come out to cut up what remains, +Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + +Mandalay + +By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, +There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; +For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: +"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!" + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + +'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, +An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, +An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, +An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud -- + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd -- + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay . . . + +When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, +She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!" +With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek +We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay . . . + +But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away, +An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; +An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: +"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else." + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay . . . + +I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, +An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; +Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, +An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and -- + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay . . . + +Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, +Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; +For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be -- +By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + +Troopin' + +(Our Army in the East) + +Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: +'Ere's September come again -- the six-year men are free. +O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away +To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + +The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, +An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. +Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, +But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + +They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, +All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; +They'll kill us of pneumonia -- for that's their little way -- +But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + +Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! +See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; +Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay -- +What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + +Troopin', troopin', give another cheer -- +'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. +The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, +Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle -- Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + +The Widow's Party + +"Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +They called us out of the barrack-yard +To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, +And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + +"What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +A bit o' beef that were three year stored, +A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, +And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + +"What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +And some was sliced and some was halved, +And some was crimped and some was carved, +And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + +"What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +They ate their whack and they drank their fill, +And I think the rations has made them ill, +For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + +"How did you get away -- away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +I comed away like a bleedin' toff, +For I got four niggers to carry me off, +As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + +"What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" +Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! +We broke a King and we built a road -- +A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. +And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + +Ford o' Kabul River + +Kabul town's by Kabul river -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + +Kabul town's a blasted place -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + +Kabul town is sun and dust -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + +Kabul town was ours to take -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +I'd ha' left it for 'is sake -- + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + +Kabul town'll go to hell -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +'Fore I see him 'live an' well -- + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + +Turn your 'orse from Kabul town -- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword -- +'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + +Gentlemen-Rankers + +To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, +Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. +Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, +And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + +Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, +To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. +Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be "Rider" to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, +When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you "Sir". + +If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, +Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? +When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, +Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + +We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, +And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! +Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, +And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + +Route Marchin' + +We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, +A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; +Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, +There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!" -- + "Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?" +Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, +There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, +An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, +An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first, . . . + +At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, +Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. +But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, +While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first, . . . + +Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, +An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, +An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, +An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first, . . . +It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, +To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, +For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, +So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first, . . . + +So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, +There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; +An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, +You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first, . . . + +We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, +Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; +Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, +There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!" -- + "Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?" + +Shillin' a Day + +My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly +From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, +Hong-Kong and Peshawur, +Lucknow and Etawah, +And fifty-five more all endin' in "pore". +Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, +Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, +But I'm old and I'm nervis, +I'm cast from the Service, +And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay -- + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + +Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I +Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, +When we rode Hell-for-leather +Both squadrons together, +That didn't care whether we lived or we died. +But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' +An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, +So if me you be'old +In the wet and the cold, +By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter -- + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an' -- runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an' ---- + + Gawd save the Queen + + + +Second Series (1896) + + +'Bobs' + +There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, +Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, +If it bucks or kicks or rears, +'E can sit for twenty years +With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + +Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! +'E's or pukka Kandaharder- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! +'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; +'E's the man that done us well, +An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + +If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. +If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. +For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, +An' a bugle in 'is throat, +An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + +'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; +But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? +So we will not complain +Tho' 'e's water on the brain, +If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + +If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, +You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. +'E's been at it thirty years, +An' amassin souveneers +In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + +What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, +You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? +Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; +'E's a terror for 'is size, +An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + +Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, +Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? +So 'e'll wear a coronet +Where 'is 'elmet used to set; +But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + +Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! +Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder - + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! +This ain't no bloomin' ode, +But you've 'elped the soldier's load, +An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! + + + + +'Back to the Army Again' + +I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, +A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; +My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, +An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + +I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good-day -- +You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; +An' fourpence a day for baccy -- an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; +An' now you can make your fortune -- the same as your orf'cers do." + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + +A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade -- +Beside "Reserve" agin' him -- 'e'd better be never made. +I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, +An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt -- + I'm back to the Army again! + +The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, +'E sez to me, "'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; +For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight +When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + +I took my bath, an' I wallered -- for, Gawd, I needed it so! +I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. +I 'eard the feet on the gravel -- the feet o' the men what drill -- +An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, "Peace, be still!" + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + +I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, "None o' your lip! +You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, +For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid." An' 'e sez to me, "Strike me dead, +But I thought you was used to the business!" an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot -- me? + I'm back to the Army again! + +Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; +They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again +In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, +An' -- any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? +A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made -- +A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade -- parade! +You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, +But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! + +'Birds of Prey' March + +March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front! -- eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. +Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + +Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time! -- mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. +Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er -- + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + +March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. +'Alt, an' 'and 'er out -- a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on -- Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + +Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ('Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) +You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow -- + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + +'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! +Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + +Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin' -- + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, +'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + +'Soldier an' Salor Too' + +As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, +I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. +'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, "'Oo are you?" +Sez 'e, "I'm a Jolly -- 'Er Majesty's Jolly -- soldier an' sailor too!" +Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; +'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. +'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite -- soldier an' sailor too! + +An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, +Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; +'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, +An' 'e sweats like a Jolly -- 'Er Majesty's Jolly -- soldier an' sailor too! +For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do -- +You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe -- +'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse -- soldier an' sailor too. + +We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, +When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; +But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, +We sent for the Jollies -- 'Er Majesty's Jollies -- soldier an' sailor too! +They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, +But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. +Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes -- soldier an' sailor too. + +You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, +Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; +But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, +The same as the Jollies -- 'Er Majesty's Jollies -- soldier an' sailor too! +They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; +Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; +For they weren't no special chrysanthemums -- soldier an' sailor too! + +To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, +Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; +But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, +An' they done it, the Jollies -- 'Er Majesty's Jollies -- + soldier an' sailor too! +Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; +Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, +So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + +We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, +But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). +But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, +When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies -- soldier an' sailor too! +Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know -- + they 'ave proved it plain and true -- +That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, +An' they done it, the Jollies -- 'Er Majesty's Jollies -- + soldier an' sailor too! + + +Sappers + +When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + ("It's all one," says the Sapper), +The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + +When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, +'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + +But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, +Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + +When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, +Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + +When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, +Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + +When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, +They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + +For ever since then, if a war they would wage, +Behold us a-shinin' on history's page -- + First page for, etc. + +We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, +An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + +They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine +To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + +They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, +To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + +We work under escort in trousers and shirt, +An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + +We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, +We make 'em good roads an' -- they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + +We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, +An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + +An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, +They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + +We build 'em nice barracks -- they swear they are bad, +That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + +They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, +For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + +Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, +An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + +Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, +But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + +I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + ("It's all one," says the Sapper), +There's only one Corps which is perfect -- that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + +That Day + +It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. +'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out -- an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + +We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, +An' some one shouted "'Ook it!" an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us -- O my Gawd! + +There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep -- + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; +But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + +I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, +Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an' -- it was me! + +We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; +An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + +We was rotten 'fore we started -- we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; +Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin' -- an' we paid! + +The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, +An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song -- because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + + +'The Men that fought at Minden' + +A Song of Instruction + +The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time -- + So was them that fought at Waterloo! +All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + +The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; +But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + +The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; +But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + +The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; +But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + +The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; +I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + +The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, +But spent it gay an' free on their betters -- such as me -- + For the good advice I gave. + +The men that fought at Minden, they was civil -- yuss, they was -- + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, +But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it -- so!) -- + For interrupting songs. + +The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; +But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you -- + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you -- + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw -- Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! + +Cholera Camp + +We've got the cholerer in camp -- it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; +It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin' -- + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us -- + To 'ear us -- + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + +Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, +Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; +But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; +An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + +There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; +It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; +An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, +"Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!" + +'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things -- +Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, +An' Lances actin' Sergeants -- eight file to obey -- +For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + +Our Colonel's white an' twitterly -- 'e gets no sleep nor food, +But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. +'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay -- +But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + +Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, +An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! +With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! +'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + +An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks -- +He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; +An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; +So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + +We've got the cholerer in camp -- we've got it 'ot an' sweet; +It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. +We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, +An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere -- some way -- some'ow -- + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners -- so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike -- oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) + + +The Ladies + +I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; +I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. +One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, +One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + +I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; +Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; +Older than me, but my first un -- + More like a mother she were -- +Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + +Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, +An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. +Funny an' yellow an' faithful -- + Doll in a teacup she were, +But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + +Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), +An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; +'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, +For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + +Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen -- +Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. +Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; +An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But -- I learned about women from 'er! + +I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, +For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; +An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; +So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins -- + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! + +Bill 'Awkins + + "'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?" + "Now 'ow in the devil would I know?" +"'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so -- + Gawd -- bless -- 'im! + I've got to tell 'im so." + + "D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?" + "Now what in the devil would I care?" +"'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air -- + Gawd -- bless -- 'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air." + + "An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?" +"I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too -- + Gawd -- bless -- 'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!" + + "Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?" +"It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day -- + Gawd -- bless -- 'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!" + +THe Mother-Lodge + +There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, +An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; +An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, +With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" + Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + +We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, +An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; +There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, +An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + +We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, +But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; +An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, +There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + +For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke +(We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), +An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, +An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + +So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred +Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; +We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, +With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + +Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, +An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, +Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, +But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + +I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, +With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; +An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, +Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" + Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + +'Follow Me 'Ome' + + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; +An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me -- follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, +An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; +An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog -- last week it were -- + No more than a round or two; +But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; +But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me -- follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's "Three rounds blank" an' follow me, + An' it's "Thirteen rank" an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me -- follow me 'ome! + +THe Sergeant's Weddin' + +'E was warned agin' 'er -- + That's what made 'im look; +She was warned agin' 'im -- + That is why she took. +'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; +We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin' -- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + +What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? +'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. +'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! +'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + +Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by -- +Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop -- u -- lar -- i -- ty! +We 'ave scores to settle -- + Scores for more than beer; +She's the girl to pay 'em -- + That is why we're 'ere! + +See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? +Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? +Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. +Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + +Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, +"'Voice that breathed o'er Eden" -- + Ain't she got the cheek! +White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! +I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + +Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! +Chuck the slippers after -- + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) +Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad -- +'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin' -- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + +The Jacket + +Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; +An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. +But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new -- + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) +An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + +One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; +But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. +An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) +"Will you draw the weight," sez 'e, "or will you draw the beer?" + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + +Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; +But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: +So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) +But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + +So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; +An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! +We limbered up an' galloped -- there were nothin' else to do -- + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) +An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + +We was goin' most extended -- we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, +Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. +Then we give 'em quarter -- such as 'adn't up and cut, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) +An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy -- somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + +We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. +There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. + +The 'Eathen + +The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; +'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; +'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, +An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! +The young recruit is 'aughty -- 'e draf's from Gawd knows where; +They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; +'E calls it bloomin' nonsense -- 'e doesn't know no more -- +An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + +The young recruit is 'ammered -- 'e takes it very 'ard; +'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters -- 'e sulks about the yard; +'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, +An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + +The young recruit is silly -- 'e thinks o' suicide; +'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; +But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, +Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + +The young recruit is 'appy -- 'e throws a chest to suit; +You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; +'E learns to drop the "bloodies" from every word 'e slings, +An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + +The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; +They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; +They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, +And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for "Lance". + +An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, +'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; +They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, +But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + +An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, +'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; +They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, +An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + +'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; +'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; +'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; +An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + +An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, +An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; +'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; +'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + +'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; +'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; +'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, +An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + +An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, +An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; +So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, +They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + +Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much +Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. +It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, +But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + +An' now it's "'Oo goes backward?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on?" +And now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone; +An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear +'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + +'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, +But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; +The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, +An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness -- keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + +The Shut-Eye Sentry +Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: +"Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. +For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, +So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along." + + So it was "Rounds! What Rounds?" at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + +The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, +An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. +An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, +But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was "Rounds! What Rounds?" O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + +'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, +An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; +But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, +When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been "Rounds! What Rounds?" Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" 'E's called me "Darlin' Jane"! + 'E'll need, etc. + +The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, +An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. +Our men was good old trusties -- + They'd done it on their 'ead; +But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was "Right flank -- wheel!" for "'Alt, an' stand at ease!" + An' "Left extend!" for "Centre close!" O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, "'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!" + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + +There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, +There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. +There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, +But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + +There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, +But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. +I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, +But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is "Rounds! What Rounds?" 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is "Pass! All's well!" An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! + +'Mary, Pity Women!' + +You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, +An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care -- +You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there. . . . +Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over -- + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + +It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; +You -- you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run +With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none. . . . +Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + +What 'ope for me or -- it? + What's left for us to do? +I've walked with men a bit, + But this -- but this is you. +So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? +You coward through and through! . . . + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin' -- + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + +You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? +We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name -- no more -- +The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore. . . . +Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! + +For to Admire + +The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; +There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. +The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; +An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, "Hum deckty hai!" + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide -- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + +I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, +I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. +I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, +Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + +The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, +I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; +For they was odd -- most awful odd -- + But all the same now they are o'er, +There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + +Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, +An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. +I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, +But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + +Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears +Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! +I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, +A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + +My girl she said, "Oh, stay with me!" + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. +They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest -- +With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. +I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide -- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + diff --git a/old/barba10.zip b/old/barba10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd27183 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/barba10.zip diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.txt b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0a023c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2866 @@ + +Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Barrack-Room Ballads + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: December 8, 2008 [EBook #2819] +Release Date: September, 2001 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + + + + +Produced by David Reed + + + + + +BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + +First Series (1892) + + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +Dedication: To T. A. + + + +Contents: + + 1 Danny Deever + 2 Tommy + 3 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy' + 4 Soldier, Soldier + 5 Screw-Guns + 6 Cells + 7 Gunga Din + 8 Oonts + 9 Loot + 10 'Snarleyow' + 11 The Widow at Windsor + 12 Belts + 13 The Young British Soldier + 14 Mandalay + 15 Troopin' + 16 The Widow's Party + 17 Ford o' Kabul + 18 Gentlemen-Rankers + 19 Route Marchin' + 20 Shillin' a Day + + + Second Series (1896) + + 21 'Bobs' + 22 'Back to the Army Again' + 23 'Birds of Prey' March + 24 'Soldier an; Sailor Too' + 25 Sappers + 26 That Day + 27 'The Men that fought at Minden + 28 Cholera Camp + 29 The Ladies + 30 Bill 'Awkins + 31 The Mother Lodge + 32 'Follow Me 'Ome + 33 The Sergeant's Weddin' + 34 The Jacket + 35 The 'Eathen + 36 The Shut-Eye Sentry + 37 'Mary, Pity Women!' + 38 For to Admire + + + + + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + R. K. + + + + +Danny Deever + + “What are the bugles blowin' for?” said Files-on-Parade. + “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. + “I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square--they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade. + “A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound-- + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + + “'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'--you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What's that so black agin' the sun?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What's that that whimpers over'ead?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny's soul that's passin' now”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + + + +Tommy + + I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, + The publican 'e up an' sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” + The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, + I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, go away”; + But it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play. + + I went into a theatre as sober as could be, + They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; + They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, + But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, wait outside”; + But it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide. + + Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep + Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; + An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit + Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?” + But it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll. + + We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, + But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; + An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, + Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, fall be'ind”, + But it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind. + + You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: + We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. + Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face + The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Chuck him out, the brute!” + But it's “Saviour of 'is country” when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that Tommy sees! + + + + +Fuzzy-Wuzzy + + (Soudan Expeditionary Force) + + + We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: + The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. + We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, + 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + + We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, + The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: + But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; + We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + + 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, + So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: + When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, + An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + + 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; + 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. + 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, + 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air-- + You big black boundin' beggar--for you broke a British square! + + + + +Soldier, Soldier + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Why don't you march with my true love?” + “We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + What did you see o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did ye see no more o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly-- + But you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did aught take 'arm to my true love?” + “I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll up an' tend to my true love!” + “'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll down an' die with my true love!” + “The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Do you bring no sign from my true love?” + “I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!” + “An' I tell you truth again--when you've lost the feel o' pain + You'd best take me for your true love.” + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. + + + + +Screw-Guns + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, + With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets + It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + + They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: + We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: + We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, + For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; + If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. + You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. + D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, + We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, + An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains + The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules-- + the jinglety-jink o' the chains--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, + An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: + With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, + An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. + The monkey can say what our road was-- + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. + Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! + + + + +Cells + + I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: + I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, + But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, + And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, + But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. + 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; + But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + + I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, + And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; + They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, + But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + + My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, + It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room--it's that that cuts so hard. + I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, + But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + + + +Gunga Din + + You may talk o' gin and beer + When you're quartered safe out 'ere, + An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; + But when it comes to slaughter + You will do your work on water, + An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. + Now in Injia's sunny clime, + Where I used to spend my time + A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, + Of all them blackfaced crew + The finest man I knew + Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was “Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.” + + The uniform 'e wore + Was nothin' much before, + An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, + For a piece o' twisty rag + An' a goatskin water-bag + Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. + When the sweatin' troop-train lay + In a sidin' through the day, + Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, + We shouted “Harry By!” + Till our throats were bricky-dry, + Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!” + + 'E would dot an' carry one + Till the longest day was done; + An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. + If we charged or broke or cut, + You could bet your bloomin' nut, + 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. + With 'is mussick on 'is back, + 'E would skip with our attack, + An' watch us till the bugles made “Retire”, + An' for all 'is dirty 'ide + 'E was white, clear white, inside + When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was “Din! Din! Din!” + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + “Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!” + + I shan't forgit the night + When I dropped be'ind the fight + With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. + I was chokin' mad with thirst, + An' the man that spied me first + Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. + 'E lifted up my 'ead, + An' he plugged me where I bled, + An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: + It was crawlin' and it stunk, + But of all the drinks I've drunk, + I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!” + + 'E carried me away + To where a dooli lay, + An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. + 'E put me safe inside, + An' just before 'e died, + “I 'ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din. + So I'll meet 'im later on + At the place where 'e is gone-- + Where it's always double drill and no canteen; + 'E'll be squattin' on the coals + Givin' drink to poor damned souls, + An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! + + + + +Oonts + + (Northern India Transport Train) + + Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? + It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; + But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road + For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + + Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, + An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? + It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, + It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + + The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, + The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; + But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, + 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again--the beggar goes an' dies! + + 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight--'e smells most awful vile; + 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; + 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, + An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front-- + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + + So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, + An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, + Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: + 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. + + + + +Loot + + If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, + If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. + But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) + W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; + An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. + Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; + So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. + (Chorus) With the loot,... + + Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; + An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. + When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot!... + + When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs-- + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find-- + For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. + When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. + (Chorus) Ow the loot!... + + You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; + I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew-- + An' don't you never say I told you so. + An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! + (Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + + + +'Snarleyow' + + This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps + Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; + An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, + But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, + To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, + They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, + When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + + They cut 'im loose an' left 'im--'e was almost tore in two-- + But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; + 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: + “Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow--'is head's between 'is 'eels!” + + The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, + An' there ain't no “Stop, conductor!” when a batt'ry's changin' ground; + Sez 'e: “I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, + But I couldn't pull up, not for you--your 'ead between your 'eels!” + + 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell + A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; + An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, + There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + + Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, + “For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain.” + They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, + So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + + The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, + But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to “Action Front!” + An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head + 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + + The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: + You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen-- + You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons-- + If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + + + +The Widow at Windsor + + 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? + She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) + There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores-- + An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars!--barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + + Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: + We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars!--it's blue with our bones!) + Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, + For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says “Stop”! + (Poor beggars!--we're sent to say “Stop”!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs-- + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars!--it's always they guns!) + + We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: + For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars!--an' don't we get blown!) + Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; + But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars!--it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars!--they'll never see 'ome!) + + + + +Belts + + There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, + Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; + It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: + The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was:--“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + There was a row in Silver Street--the regiments was out, + They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!” + That drew them like a hornet's nest--we met them good an' large, + The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was:--“Belts...” + + There was a row in Silver Street--an' I was in it too; + We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! + I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm + A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--they sent the Polis there, + The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; + But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, + Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it might ha' raged till now, + But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; + 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: + An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--but that put down the shine, + Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!” + We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, + The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was:--“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it isn't over yet, + For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; + 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: + There was a row in Silver Street--begod, I wonder why! + But it was:--“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + + + +The Young British Soldier + + When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East + 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, + An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, + You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, + An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier... + + First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, + For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts-- + Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts-- + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier... + + When the cholera comes--as it will past a doubt-- + Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, + For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier... + + But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: + You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: + If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier... + + If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, + Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; + Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier... + + Now, if you must marry, take care she is old-- + A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, + For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier... + + If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath + To shoot when you catch 'em--you'll swing, on my oath!-- + Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier... + + When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, + Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, + Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier... + + When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, + Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; + She's human as you are--you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier... + + When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, + The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, + Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier... + + If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, + Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: + So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier... + + When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, + And the women come out to cut up what remains, + Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + + + +Mandalay + + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, + There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; + For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: + “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!” + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, + An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, + An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, + An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud-- + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd-- + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay... + + When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, + She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing “Kulla-lo-lo!” + With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek + We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay... + + But that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away, + An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; + An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: + “If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.” + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay... + + I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, + An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; + Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, + An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and-- + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay... + + Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, + Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; + For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be-- + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + + + +Troopin' + + (Our Army in the East) + + Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: + 'Ere's September come again--the six-year men are free. + O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away + To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, + An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. + Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, + But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + + They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, + All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; + They'll kill us of pneumonia--for that's their little way-- + But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + + Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! + See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; + Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay-- + What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + + Troopin', troopin', give another cheer-- + 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. + The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, + Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle--Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + + + +The Widow's Party + + “Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They called us out of the barrack-yard + To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, + And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + “What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + A bit o' beef that were three year stored, + A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, + And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + And some was sliced and some was halved, + And some was crimped and some was carved, + And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They ate their whack and they drank their fill, + And I think the rations has made them ill, + For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + + “How did you get away--away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + I comed away like a bleedin' toff, + For I got four niggers to carry me off, + As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + We broke a King and we built a road-- + A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. + And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + + + +Ford o' Kabul River + + Kabul town's by Kabul river-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town's a blasted place-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town is sun and dust-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town was ours to take-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' left it for 'is sake-- + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + + Kabul town'll go to hell-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Fore I see him 'live an' well-- + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Turn your 'orse from Kabul town-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + + + +Gentlemen-Rankers + + To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, + Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. + Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, + And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, + To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. + Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be “Rider” to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, + When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you “Sir”. + + If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, + Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? + When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, + Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + + We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, + And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! + Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, + And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + + + +Route Marchin' + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, + A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”-- + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, + There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, + An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, + An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first,... + + At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, + Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. + But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, + While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first,... + + Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, + An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, + An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, + An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first,... + It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, + To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, + For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, + So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first,... + + So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, + There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; + An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, + You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first,... + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, + Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”-- + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + + + + +Shillin' a Day + + My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly + From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, + Hong-Kong and Peshawur, + Lucknow and Etawah, + And fifty-five more all endin' in “pore”. + Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, + Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, + But I'm old and I'm nervis, + I'm cast from the Service, + And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay-- + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + + Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I + Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, + When we rode Hell-for-leather + Both squadrons together, + That didn't care whether we lived or we died. + But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' + An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, + So if me you be'old + In the wet and the cold, + By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter-- + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'--runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an'---- + + Gawd save the Queen + + + + + +Second Series (1896) + + + + +'Bobs' + + There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, + Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, + If it bucks or kicks or rears, + 'E can sit for twenty years + With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's or pukka Kandaharder- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; + 'E's the man that done us well, + An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + + If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. + If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. + For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, + An' a bugle in 'is throat, + An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + + 'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; + But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? + So we will not complain + Tho' 'e's water on the brain, + If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + + If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, + You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. + 'E's been at it thirty years, + An' amassin souveneers + In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + + What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, + You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? + Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; + 'E's a terror for 'is size, + An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + + Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, + Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? + So 'e'll wear a coronet + Where 'is 'elmet used to set; + But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur-- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder-- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + This ain't no bloomin' ode, + But you've 'elped the soldier's load, + An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! + + + + +'Back to the Army Again' + + I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, + A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; + My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, + An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + + I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: “Good-day-- + You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; + An' fourpence a day for baccy--an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; + An' now you can make your fortune--the same as your orf'cers do.” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + + A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade-- + Beside “Reserve” agin' him--'e'd better be never made. + I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, + An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt-- + I'm back to the Army again! + + The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, + 'E sez to me, “'Shun!” an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; + For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight + When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I took my bath, an' I wallered--for, Gawd, I needed it so! + I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. + I 'eard the feet on the gravel--the feet o' the men what drill-- + An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, “Peace, be still!” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, “None o' your lip! + You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, + For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid.” An' 'e sez to me, “Strike me dead, + But I thought you was used to the business!” an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot--me? + I'm back to the Army again! + + Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; + They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again + In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, + An'--any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? + A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made-- + A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade--parade! + You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, + But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! + + + + +'Birds of Prey' March + + March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front!--eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. + Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time!--mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. + Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er-- + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + + March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. + 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out--a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on--Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + + Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ['Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) + You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow-- + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + + 'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! + Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + + Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'-- + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, + 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ['Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ['Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + + + +'Soldier an' Salor Too' + + As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, + I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. + 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, “'Oo are you?” + Sez 'e, “I'm a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too!” + Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; + 'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. + 'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite--soldier an' sailor too! + + An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, + Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; + 'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, + An' 'e sweats like a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too! + For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do-- + You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe-- + 'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse--soldier an' sailor too. + + We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, + When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; + But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, + We sent for the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, + But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. + Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes--soldier an' sailor too. + + You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, + Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; + But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, + The same as the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; + Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; + For they weren't no special chrysanthemums--soldier an' sailor too! + + To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, + Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; + But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; + Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, + So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + + We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, + But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). + But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, + When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know-- + they 'ave proved it plain and true-- + That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + + + + +Sappers + + When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, + 'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + + But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, + Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + + When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, + Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + + When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, + Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + + When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, + They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + + For ever since then, if a war they would wage, + Behold us a-shinin' on history's page-- + First page for, etc. + + We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, + An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + + They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine + To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + + They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, + To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + + We work under escort in trousers and shirt, + An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + + We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, + We make 'em good roads an'--they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + + We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, + An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + + An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, + They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + + We build 'em nice barracks--they swear they are bad, + That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + + They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, + For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + + Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, + An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + + Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, + But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + + I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + There's only one Corps which is perfect--that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + + + +That Day + + It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. + 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out--an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, + An' some one shouted “'Ook it!” an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us--O my Gawd! + + There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep-- + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; + But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + + I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, + Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an'--it was me! + + We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; + An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + + We was rotten 'fore we started--we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; + Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin'--an' we paid! + + The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, + An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song--because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + + + +'The Men that fought at Minden' + + A Song of Instruction + + The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time-- + So was them that fought at Waterloo! + All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; + But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + + The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; + But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; + But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; + I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, + But spent it gay an' free on their betters--such as me-- + For the good advice I gave. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was civil--yuss, they was-- + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, + But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it--so!)-- + For interrupting songs. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; + But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you-- + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you-- + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw--Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! + + + + +Cholera Camp + + We've got the cholerer in camp--it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; + It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin'-- + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us-- + To 'ear us-- + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + + Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, + Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; + But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; + An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + + There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; + It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; + An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, + “Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!” + + 'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things-- + Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, + An' Lances actin' Sergeants--eight file to obey-- + For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + + Our Colonel's white an' twitterly--'e gets no sleep nor food, + But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. + 'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay-- + But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + + Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, + An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! + With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! + 'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + + An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks-- + He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; + An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; + So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + + We've got the cholerer in camp--we've got it 'ot an' sweet; + It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. + We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, + An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere--some way--some'ow-- + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners--so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike--oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) + + + + +The Ladies + + I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; + I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. + One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, + One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + + I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; + Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; + Older than me, but my first un-- + More like a mother she were-- + Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, + An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. + Funny an' yellow an' faithful-- + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), + An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; + 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, + For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen-- + Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. + Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; + An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But--I learned about women from 'er! + + I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, + For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; + An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; + So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins-- + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! + + + + +Bill 'Awkins + + “'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now 'ow in the devil would I know?” + “'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I've got to tell 'im so.” + + “D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now what in the devil would I care?” + “'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air.” + + “An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?” + “I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!” + + “Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?” + “It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!” + + + + +The Mother-Lodge + + There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, + An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; + An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, + With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside--“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside--“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, + An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; + There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, + An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + + We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, + But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; + An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, + There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + + For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke + (We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), + An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, + An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + + So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred + Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; + We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, + With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + + Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, + An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, + Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, + But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + + I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, + With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; + An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, + Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside--“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside--“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + + + +'Follow Me 'Ome' + + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; + An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, + An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; + An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog--last week it were-- + No more than a round or two; + But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; + But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's “Three rounds blank” an' follow me, + An' it's “Thirteen rank” an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + + + +The Sergeant's Weddin' + + 'E was warned agin' 'er-- + That's what made 'im look; + She was warned agin' 'im-- + That is why she took. + 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; + We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? + 'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. + 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! + 'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + + Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by-- + Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop--u--lar--i--ty! + We 'ave scores to settle-- + Scores for more than beer; + She's the girl to pay 'em-- + That is why we're 'ere! + + See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? + Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? + Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. + Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + + Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, + “'Voice that breathed o'er Eden”-- + Ain't she got the cheek! + White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! + I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + + Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! + Chuck the slippers after-- + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) + Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad-- + 'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + + +The Jacket + + Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; + An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new-- + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + + One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; + But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. + An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + “Will you draw the weight,” sez 'e, “or will you draw the beer?” + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; + But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: + So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + + So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; + An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! + We limbered up an' galloped--there were nothin' else to do-- + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + + We was goin' most extended--we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, + Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. + Then we give 'em quarter--such as 'adn't up and cut, + ['Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy--somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. + There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. + + + + +The 'Eathen + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, + An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + The young recruit is 'aughty--'e draf's from Gawd knows where; + They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; + 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense--'e doesn't know no more-- + An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + + The young recruit is 'ammered--'e takes it very 'ard; + 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters--'e sulks about the yard; + 'E talks o' “cruel tyrants” 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, + An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + + The young recruit is silly--'e thinks o' suicide; + 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; + But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, + Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + + The young recruit is 'appy--'e throws a chest to suit; + You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; + 'E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word 'e slings, + An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + + The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; + They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; + They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, + And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for “Lance”. + + An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, + 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; + They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, + But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + + An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, + 'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; + They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, + An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + + 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; + 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; + 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; + An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + + An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, + An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; + 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; + 'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + + 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; + 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; + 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, + An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + + An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, + An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; + So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, + They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + + Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much + Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. + It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, + But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + + An' now it's “'Oo goes backward?” an' now it's “'Oo comes on?” + And now it's “Get the doolies,” an' now the captain's gone; + An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear + 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + + 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, + But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; + The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, + An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness--keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + + The Shut-Eye Sentry + Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: + “Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. + For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, + So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along.” + + So it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + + The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, + An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. + An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, + But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + + 'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, + An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; + But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, + When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been “Rounds! What Rounds?” Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” 'E's called me “Darlin' Jane”! + 'E'll need, etc. + + The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, + An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. + Our men was good old trusties-- + They'd done it on their 'ead; + But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was “Right flank--wheel!” for “'Alt, an' stand at ease!” + An' “Left extend!” for “Centre close!” O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, “'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!” + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + + There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, + There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. + There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, + But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + + There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, + But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. + I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, + But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is “Rounds! What Rounds?” 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is “Pass! All's well!” An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! + + + + +'Mary, Pity Women!' + + You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, + An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care-- + You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over-- + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + + It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; + You--you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run + With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + + What 'ope for me or--it? + What's left for us to do? + I've walked with men a bit, + But this--but this is you. + So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? + You coward through and through!... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'-- + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + + You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? + We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name--no more-- + The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! + + + + +For to Admire + + The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. + The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; + An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!” + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, + I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. + I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, + Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + + The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, + I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; + For they was odd--most awful odd-- + But all the same now they are o'er, + There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + + Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, + An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. + I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, + But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + + Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears + Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! + I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, + A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + + My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. + They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest-- + With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. + I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + +***** This file should be named 2819-0.txt or 2819-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/2819/ + +Produced by David Reed + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.zip b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1683444 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-0.zip diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h.zip b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..baa0ea2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h.zip diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h/2819-h.htm b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h/2819-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c456027 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819-h/2819-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3244 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Barrack-room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Barrack-Room Ballads + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: December 8, 2008 [EBook #2819] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + + + + +Produced by David Reed, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Dedication: To T. A. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkfirst"> <b>First Series (1892)</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Danny Deever </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> Tommy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> Fuzzy-Wuzzy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Soldier, Soldier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Screw-Guns </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Cells </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> Gunga Din </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Oonts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Loot </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 'Snarleyow' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> The Widow at Windsor </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Belts </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> The Young British Soldier </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> Mandalay </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Troopin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> The Widow's Party </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Ford o' Kabul River </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Gentlemen-Rankers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Route Marchin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Shillin' a Day </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> <b>Second Series (1896)</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> 'Bobs' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> 'Back to the Army Again' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 'Birds of Prey' March </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 'Soldier an' Salor Too' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> Sappers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> That Day </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 'The Men that fought at Minden' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Cholera Camp </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> The Ladies </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Bill 'Awkins </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> The Mother-Lodge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> 'Follow Me 'Ome' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> The Sergeant's Weddin' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkjacket"> The Jacket </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> The 'Eathen </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> 'Mary, Pity Women!' </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> For to Admire </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + R. K. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="linkfirst" id="linkfirst"></a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + First Series (1892) + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Danny Deever + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What are the bugles blowin' for?” said Files-on-Parade. + “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. + “I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square—they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade. + “A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound— + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + + “'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times”, said Files-on-Parade. + “'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'—you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + “What's that so black agin' the sun?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + “What's that that whimpers over'ead?” said Files-on-Parade. + “It's Danny's soul that's passin' now”, the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Tommy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, + The publican 'e up an' sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” + The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, + I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, go away”; + But it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play. + + I went into a theatre as sober as could be, + They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; + They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, + But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, wait outside”; + But it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper's on the tide. + + Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep + Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; + An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit + Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?” + But it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's “Thin red line of 'eroes” when the drums begin to roll. + + We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, + But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; + An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, + Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Tommy, fall be'ind”, + But it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there's trouble in the wind. + + You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: + We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. + Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face + The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' “Chuck him out, the brute!” + But it's “Saviour of 'is country” when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool—you bet that Tommy sees! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Fuzzy-Wuzzy + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Soudan Expeditionary Force) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: + The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. + We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, + 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + + We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, + The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: + But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; + We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + + 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, + So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: + When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, + An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + + 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; + 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. + 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, + 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air— + You big black boundin' beggar—for you broke a British square! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Soldier, Soldier + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Why don't you march with my true love?” + “We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + What did you see o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did ye see no more o' my true love?” + “I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly— + But you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did aught take 'arm to my true love?” + “I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white— + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll up an' tend to my true love!” + “'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll down an' die with my true love!” + “The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im— + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Do you bring no sign from my true love?” + “I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, + An' you'd best go look for a new love.” + + “Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!” + “An' I tell you truth again—when you've lost the feel o' pain + You'd best take me for your true love.” + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Screw-Guns + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, + With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets + It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do—hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender— + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + + They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: + We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: + We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, + For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; + If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. + You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. + D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, + We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, + An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains + The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules— + the jinglety-jink o' the chains—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, + An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: + With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, + An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. + The monkey can say what our road was— + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. + Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast—'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do—hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender— + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Cells + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: + I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, + But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, + And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard— + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + + I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, + But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. + 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; + But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + + I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, + And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; + They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, + But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + + My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, + It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room—it's that that cuts so hard. + I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, + But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard!” + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard— + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For “drunk and resisting the Guard.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Gunga Din + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You may talk o' gin and beer + When you're quartered safe out 'ere, + An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; + But when it comes to slaughter + You will do your work on water, + An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. + Now in Injia's sunny clime, + Where I used to spend my time + A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, + Of all them blackfaced crew + The finest man I knew + Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was “Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.” + + The uniform 'e wore + Was nothin' much before, + An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, + For a piece o' twisty rag + An' a goatskin water-bag + Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. + When the sweatin' troop-train lay + In a sidin' through the day, + Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, + We shouted “Harry By!” + Till our throats were bricky-dry, + Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!” + + 'E would dot an' carry one + Till the longest day was done; + An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. + If we charged or broke or cut, + You could bet your bloomin' nut, + 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. + With 'is mussick on 'is back, + 'E would skip with our attack, + An' watch us till the bugles made “Retire”, + An' for all 'is dirty 'ide + 'E was white, clear white, inside + When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was “Din! Din! Din!” + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + “Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!” + + I shan't forgit the night + When I dropped be'ind the fight + With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. + I was chokin' mad with thirst, + An' the man that spied me first + Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. + 'E lifted up my 'ead, + An' he plugged me where I bled, + An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: + It was crawlin' and it stunk, + But of all the drinks I've drunk, + I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was “Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!” + + 'E carried me away + To where a dooli lay, + An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. + 'E put me safe inside, + An' just before 'e died, + “I 'ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din. + So I'll meet 'im later on + At the place where 'e is gone— + Where it's always double drill and no canteen; + 'E'll be squattin' on the coals + Givin' drink to poor damned souls, + An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Oonts + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Northern India Transport Train) + + Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? + It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; + But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road + For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + + Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, + An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? + It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, + It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + + The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, + The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; + But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, + 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again—the beggar goes an' dies! + + 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight—'e smells most awful vile; + 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; + 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, + An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front— + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + + So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, + An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, + Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: + 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Loot + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, + If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. + But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) + W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the— + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; + An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. + Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; + So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. + (Chorus) With the loot,... + + Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; + An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. + When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the— + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot!... + + When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs— + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find— + For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. + When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. + (Chorus) Ow the loot!... + + You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; + I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew— + An' don't you never say I told you so. + An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)— + So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! + (Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Snarleyow' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps + Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; + An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, + But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, + To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, + They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, + When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + + They cut 'im loose an' left 'im—'e was almost tore in two— + But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; + 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: + “Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow—'is head's between 'is 'eels!” + + The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, + An' there ain't no “Stop, conductor!” when a batt'ry's changin' ground; + Sez 'e: “I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, + But I couldn't pull up, not for you—your 'ead between your 'eels!” + + 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell + A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; + An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, + There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + + Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, + “For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain.” + They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, + So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + + The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, + But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to “Action Front!” + An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head + 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + + The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: + You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen— + You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons— + If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Widow at Windsor + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? + She 'as ships on the foam—she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) + There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores— + An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars!—barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + + Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: + We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars!—it's blue with our bones!) + Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, + For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says “Stop”! + (Poor beggars!—we're sent to say “Stop”!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs— + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars!—it's always they guns!) + + We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: + For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars!—an' don't we get blown!) + Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; + But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars!—it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars!—they'll never see 'ome!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Belts + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, + Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; + It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: + The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + There was a row in Silver Street—the regiments was out, + They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!” + That drew them like a hornet's nest—we met them good an' large, + The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was:—“Belts...” + + There was a row in Silver Street—an' I was in it too; + We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! + I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm + A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—they sent the Polis there, + The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; + But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, + Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—it might ha' raged till now, + But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; + 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: + An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—but that put down the shine, + Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!” + We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, + The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was:—“Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street—it isn't over yet, + For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; + 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: + There was a row in Silver Street—begod, I wonder why! + But it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” + An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Young British Soldier + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East + 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, + An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, + You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, + An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier... + + First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, + For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts— + Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts— + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier... + + When the cholera comes—as it will past a doubt— + Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, + For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier... + + But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: + You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: + If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier... + + If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, + Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; + Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier... + + Now, if you must marry, take care she is old— + A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, + For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier... + + If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath + To shoot when you catch 'em—you'll swing, on my oath!— + Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier... + + When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, + Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, + Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier... + + When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, + Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; + She's human as you are—you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier... + + When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, + The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, + Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier... + + If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, + Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: + So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier... + + When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, + And the women come out to cut up what remains, + Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Mandalay + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, + There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; + For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: + “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!” + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, + An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat—jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, + An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, + An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud— + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd— + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay... + + When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, + She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing “Kulla-lo-lo!” + With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek + We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay... + + But that's all shove be'ind me—long ago an' fur away, + An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; + An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: + “If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.” + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay... + + I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, + An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; + Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, + An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and— + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay... + + Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, + Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; + For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be— + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Troopin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Our Army in the East) + + Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: + 'Ere's September come again—the six-year men are free. + O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away + To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, + An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. + Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, + But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + + They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, + All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; + They'll kill us of pneumonia—for that's their little way— + But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + + Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! + See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; + Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay— + What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + + Troopin', troopin', give another cheer— + 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. + The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, + Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle—Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Widow's Party + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They called us out of the barrack-yard + To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, + And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!) + + “What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + A bit o' beef that were three year stored, + A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, + And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + And some was sliced and some was halved, + And some was crimped and some was carved, + And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They ate their whack and they drank their fill, + And I think the rations has made them ill, + For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + + “How did you get away—away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + I comed away like a bleedin' toff, + For I got four niggers to carry me off, + As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + + “What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?” + Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + We broke a King and we built a road— + A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. + And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Ford o' Kabul River + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Kabul town's by Kabul river— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town's a blasted place— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town is sun and dust— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town was ours to take— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + I'd ha' left it for 'is sake— + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + + Kabul town'll go to hell— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Fore I see him 'live an' well— + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Turn your 'orse from Kabul town— + Blow the bugle, draw the sword— + 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Gentlemen-Rankers + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, + Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. + Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, + And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa—aa—aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, + To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. + Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be “Rider” to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, + When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you “Sir”. + + If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, + Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? + When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, + Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + + We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, + And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! + Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, + And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa—aa—aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Route Marchin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, + A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”— + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, + There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, + An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, + An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first,... + + At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, + Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. + But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, + While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first,... + + Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, + An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, + An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, + An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first,... + It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, + To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, + For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, + So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first,... + + So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, + There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; + An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, + You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first,... + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, + Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”— + “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Shillin' a Day + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly + From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, + Hong-Kong and Peshawur, + Lucknow and Etawah, + And fifty-five more all endin' in “pore”. + Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, + Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, + But I'm old and I'm nervis, + I'm cast from the Service, + And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay— + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + + Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I + Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, + When we rode Hell-for-leather + Both squadrons together, + That didn't care whether we lived or we died. + But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' + An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, + So if me you be'old + In the wet and the cold, + By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter— + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'—runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an'—— + + Gawd save the Queen +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + Second Series (1896) + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Bobs' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, + Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, + If it bucks or kicks or rears, + 'E can sit for twenty years + With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's or pukka Kandaharder- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; + 'E's the man that done us well, + An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + + If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. + If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. + For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, + An' a bugle in 'is throat, + An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + + 'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; + But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? + So we will not complain + Tho' 'e's water on the brain, + If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + + If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, + You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. + 'E's been at it thirty years, + An' amassin souveneers + In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + + What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, + You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? + Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; + 'E's a terror for 'is size, + An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + + Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, + Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? + So 'e'll wear a coronet + Where 'is 'elmet used to set; + But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur— + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder— + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + This ain't no bloomin' ode, + But you've 'elped the soldier's load, + An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Back to the Army Again' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, + A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; + My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, + An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + + I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: “Good-day— + You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; + An' fourpence a day for baccy—an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; + An' now you can make your fortune—the same as your orf'cers do.” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + + A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade— + Beside “Reserve” agin' him—'e'd better be never made. + I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, + An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt— + I'm back to the Army again! + + The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, + 'E sez to me, “'Shun!” an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; + For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight + When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I took my bath, an' I wallered—for, Gawd, I needed it so! + I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. + I 'eard the feet on the gravel—the feet o' the men what drill— + An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, “Peace, be still!” + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, “None o' your lip! + You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, + For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid.” An' 'e sez to me, “Strike me dead, + But I thought you was used to the business!” an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot—me? + I'm back to the Army again! + + Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; + They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again + In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, + An'—any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? + A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made— + A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade—parade! + You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, + But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Birds of Prey' March + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front!—eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. + Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time!—mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. + Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er— + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + + March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. + 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out—a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on—Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + + Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ('Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) + You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow— + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + + 'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! + Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + + Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'— + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, + 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Soldier an' Salor Too' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, + I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. + 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, “'Oo are you?” + Sez 'e, “I'm a Jolly—'Er Majesty's Jolly—soldier an' sailor too!” + Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; + 'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. + 'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite—soldier an' sailor too! + + An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, + Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; + 'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, + An' 'e sweats like a Jolly—'Er Majesty's Jolly—soldier an' sailor too! + For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do— + You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe— + 'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse—soldier an' sailor too. + + We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, + When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; + But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, + We sent for the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, + But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. + Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes—soldier an' sailor too. + + You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, + Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; + But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, + The same as the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; + Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; + For they weren't no special chrysanthemums—soldier an' sailor too! + + To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, + Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; + But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, + An' they done it, the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies— + soldier an' sailor too! + Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; + Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, + So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + + We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, + But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). + But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, + When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies—soldier an' sailor too! + Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know— + they 'ave proved it plain and true— + That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, + An' they done it, the Jollies—'Er Majesty's Jollies— + soldier an' sailor too! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Sappers + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, + 'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + + But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, + Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + + When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, + Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + + When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, + Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + + When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, + They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + + For ever since then, if a war they would wage, + Behold us a-shinin' on history's page— + First page for, etc. + + We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, + An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + + They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine + To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + + They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, + To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + + We work under escort in trousers and shirt, + An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + + We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, + We make 'em good roads an'—they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + + We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, + An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + + An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, + They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + + We build 'em nice barracks—they swear they are bad, + That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + + They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, + For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + + Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, + An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + + Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, + But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + + I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + (“It's all one,” says the Sapper), + There's only one Corps which is perfect—that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + That Day + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. + 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out—an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, + An' some one shouted “'Ook it!” an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us—O my Gawd! + + There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep— + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; + But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + + I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, + Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an'—it was me! + + We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; + An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + + We was rotten 'fore we started—we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; + Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin'—an' we paid! + + The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, + An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song—because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'The Men that fought at Minden' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Song of Instruction + + The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time— + So was them that fought at Waterloo! + All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; + But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + + The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; + But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; + But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; + I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, + But spent it gay an' free on their betters—such as me— + For the good advice I gave. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was civil—yuss, they was— + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, + But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it—so!)— + For interrupting songs. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; + But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you— + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you— + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw—Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Cholera Camp + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We've got the cholerer in camp—it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; + It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin'— + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us— + To 'ear us— + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + + Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, + Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; + But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; + An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + + There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; + It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; + An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, + “Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!” + + 'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things— + Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, + An' Lances actin' Sergeants—eight file to obey— + For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + + Our Colonel's white an' twitterly—'e gets no sleep nor food, + But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. + 'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay— + But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + + Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, + An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! + With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! + 'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + + An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks— + He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; + An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; + So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + + We've got the cholerer in camp—we've got it 'ot an' sweet; + It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. + We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, + An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere—some way—some'ow— + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners—so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike—oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Ladies + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; + I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. + One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, + One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + + I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; + Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; + Older than me, but my first un— + More like a mother she were— + Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, + An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. + Funny an' yellow an' faithful— + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), + An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; + 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, + For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen— + Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. + Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; + An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But—I learned about women from 'er! + + I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, + For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; + An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; + So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins— + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Bill 'Awkins + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now 'ow in the devil would I know?” + “'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so— + Gawd—bless—'im! + I've got to tell 'im so.” + + “D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?” + “Now what in the devil would I care?” + “'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air— + Gawd—bless—'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air.” + + “An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?” + “I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too— + Gawd—bless—'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!” + + “Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?” + “It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day— + Gawd—bless—'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Mother-Lodge + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, + An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; + An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, + With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside—“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, + An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; + There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, + An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + + We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, + But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; + An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, + There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + + For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke + (We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), + An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, + An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + + So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred + Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; + We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, + With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + + Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, + An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, + Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, + But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + + I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, + With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; + An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, + Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!” + Inside—“Brother”, an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Follow Me 'Ome' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; + An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me—follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, + An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; + An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog—last week it were— + No more than a round or two; + But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; + But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me—follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's “Three rounds blank” an' follow me, + An' it's “Thirteen rank” an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me—follow me 'ome! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Sergeant's Weddin' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'E was warned agin' 'er— + That's what made 'im look; + She was warned agin' 'im— + That is why she took. + 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; + We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? + 'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. + 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! + 'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + + Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by— + Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop—u—lar—i—ty! + We 'ave scores to settle— + Scores for more than beer; + She's the girl to pay 'em— + That is why we're 'ere! + + See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? + Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? + Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. + Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + + Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, + “'Voice that breathed o'er Eden”— + Ain't she got the cheek! + White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! + I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + + Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! + Chuck the slippers after— + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) + Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad— + 'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'— + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="linkjacket" id="linkjacket"></a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Jacket + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; + An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new— + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + + One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; + But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. + An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + “Will you draw the weight,” sez 'e, “or will you draw the beer?” + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; + But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: + So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + + So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; + An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! + We limbered up an' galloped—there were nothin' else to do— + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + + We was goin' most extended—we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, + Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. + Then we give 'em quarter—such as 'adn't up and cut, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy—somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. + There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The 'Eathen + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, + An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + The young recruit is 'aughty—'e draf's from Gawd knows where; + They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; + 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense—'e doesn't know no more— + An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + + The young recruit is 'ammered—'e takes it very 'ard; + 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters—'e sulks about the yard; + 'E talks o' “cruel tyrants” 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, + An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + + The young recruit is silly—'e thinks o' suicide; + 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; + But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, + Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + + The young recruit is 'appy—'e throws a chest to suit; + You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; + 'E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word 'e slings, + An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + + The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; + They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; + They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, + And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for “Lance”. + + An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, + 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; + They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, + But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + + An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, + 'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; + They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, + An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + + 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; + 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; + 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; + An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + + An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, + An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; + 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; + 'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + + 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; + 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; + 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, + An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + + An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, + An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; + So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, + They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + + Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much + Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. + It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, + But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + + An' now it's “'Oo goes backward?” an' now it's “'Oo comes on?” + And now it's “Get the doolies,” an' now the captain's gone; + An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear + 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + + 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, + But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; + The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, + An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness—keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + + The Shut-Eye Sentry + Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: + “Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. + For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, + So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along.” + + So it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + + The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, + An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. + An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, + But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + + 'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, + An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; + But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, + When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been “Rounds! What Rounds?” Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was “Pass! All's well!” 'E's called me “Darlin' Jane”! + 'E'll need, etc. + + The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, + An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. + Our men was good old trusties— + They'd done it on their 'ead; + But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was “Right flank—wheel!” for “'Alt, an' stand at ease!” + An' “Left extend!” for “Centre close!” O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, “'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!” + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + + There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, + There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. + There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, + But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + + There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, + But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. + I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, + But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is “Rounds! What Rounds?” 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is “Pass! All's well!” An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 'Mary, Pity Women!' + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, + An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care— + You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over— + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + + It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; + You—you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run + With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + + What 'ope for me or—it? + What's left for us to do? + I've walked with men a bit, + But this—but this is you. + So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? + You coward through and through!... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'— + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + + You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? + We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name—no more— + The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + For to Admire + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. + The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; + An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, “Hum deckty hai!” + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide— + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, + I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. + I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, + Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + + The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, + I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; + For they was odd—most awful odd— + But all the same now they are o'er, + There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + + Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, + An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. + I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, + But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + + Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears + Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! + I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, + A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + + My girl she said, “Oh, stay with me!” + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. + They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest— + With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. + I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide— + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + +***** This file should be named 2819-h.htm or 2819-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/2819/ + +Produced by David Reed, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.txt b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b879af --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2864 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Barrack-Room Ballads + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: December 8, 2008 [EBook #2819] +Release Date: September, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + + + + +Produced by David Reed + + + + + +BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS + +First Series (1892) + + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +Dedication: To T. A. + + + +Contents: + + 1 Danny Deever + 2 Tommy + 3 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy' + 4 Soldier, Soldier + 5 Screw-Guns + 6 Cells + 7 Gunga Din + 8 Oonts + 9 Loot + 10 'Snarleyow' + 11 The Widow at Windsor + 12 Belts + 13 The Young British Soldier + 14 Mandalay + 15 Troopin' + 16 The Widow's Party + 17 Ford o' Kabul + 18 Gentlemen-Rankers + 19 Route Marchin' + 20 Shillin' a Day + + + Second Series (1896) + + 21 'Bobs' + 22 'Back to the Army Again' + 23 'Birds of Prey' March + 24 'Soldier an; Sailor Too' + 25 Sappers + 26 That Day + 27 'The Men that fought at Minden + 28 Cholera Camp + 29 The Ladies + 30 Bill 'Awkins + 31 The Mother Lodge + 32 'Follow Me 'Ome + 33 The Sergeant's Weddin' + 34 The Jacket + 35 The 'Eathen + 36 The Shut-Eye Sentry + 37 'Mary, Pity Women!' + 38 For to Admire + + + + + Dedication + + To T. A. + I have made for you a song, + And it may be right or wrong, + But only you can tell me if it's true; + I have tried for to explain + Both your pleasure and your pain, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + O there'll surely come a day + When they'll give you all your pay, + And treat you as a Christian ought to do; + So, until that day comes round, + Heaven keep you safe and sound, + And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you! + + R. K. + + + + +Danny Deever + + "What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade. + "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said. + "What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade. + "I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, + The regiment's in 'ollow square--they're hangin' him to-day; + They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, + An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + "What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade. + "It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said. + "What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade. + "A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun", the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, + They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; + An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound-- + O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! + + "'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade. + "'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said. + "I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times", said Files-on-Parade. + "'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said. + They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, + For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'--you must look 'im in the face; + Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, + While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + "What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade. + "It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said. + "What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade. + "It's Danny's soul that's passin' now", the Colour-Sergeant said. + For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, + The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; + Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, + After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. + + + + +Tommy + + I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, + The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." + The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die, + I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: + O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away"; + But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play, + The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, + O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play. + + I went into a theatre as sober as could be, + They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me; + They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls, + But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside"; + But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide, + The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide, + O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide. + + Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep + Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap; + An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit + Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. + Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?" + But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll, + The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, + O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll. + + We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too, + But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; + An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints, + Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; + While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind", + But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind, + There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind, + O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind. + + You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all: + We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. + Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face + The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. + For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!" + But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot; + An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; + An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that Tommy sees! + + + + +Fuzzy-Wuzzy + + (Soudan Expeditionary Force) + + + We've fought with many men acrost the seas, + An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: + The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; + But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. + We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: + 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, + 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, + An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed + We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. + + We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, + The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, + The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, + An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: + But all we ever got from such as they + Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; + We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, + But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. + Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; + Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. + We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; + But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. + + 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, + 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, + So we must certify the skill 'e's shown + In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: + When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush + With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, + An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush + Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, + If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore; + But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, + For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! + + 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, + An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; + 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, + An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. + 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! + 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, + 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn + For a Regiment o' British Infantree! + So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; + You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; + An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air-- + You big black boundin' beggar--for you broke a British square! + + + + +Soldier, Soldier + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Why don't you march with my true love?" + "We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip, + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + New love! True love! + Best go look for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best go look for a new love. + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + What did you see o' my true love?" + "I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green, + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did ye see no more o' my true love?" + "I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly-- + But you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Did aught take 'arm to my true love?" + "I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll up an' tend to my true love!" + "'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead, + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + I'll down an' die with my true love!" + "The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im-- + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + Do you bring no sign from my true love?" + "I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear, + An' you'd best go look for a new love." + + "Soldier, soldier come from the wars, + O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!" + "An' I tell you truth again--when you've lost the feel o' pain + You'd best take me for your true love." + True love! New love! + Best take 'im for a new love, + The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes, + An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. + + + + +Screw-Guns + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, + With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets + It's only the pick of the Army + that handles the dear little pets--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we call round with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You can go where you please, you can skid up the trees, + but you don't get away from the guns! + + They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't: + We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint: + We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, + For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, + we guns that are built in two bits--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; + If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave. + You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss. + D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns? + By God, you must lather with us--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below, + We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, + we're out on the rocks an' the snow, + An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains + The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules-- + the jinglety-jink o' the chains--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin', + an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, + An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit: + With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, + an' the sun off the snow in your face, + An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes + to hold the old gun in 'er place--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns... + + Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, + I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule. + The monkey can say what our road was-- + the wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. + Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! + Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast--'Tss! 'Tss! + For you all love the screw-guns--the screw-guns they all love you! + So when we take tea with a few guns, + o' course you will know what to do--hoo! hoo! + Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-- + it's worse if you fights or you runs: + You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, + but you can't get away from the guns! + + + + +Cells + + I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick: + I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, + But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, + And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink + and blacking the Corporal's eye. + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard!" + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard." + + I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, + But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here. + 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; + But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock + and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. + + I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, + And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed; + They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, + But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! + + My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, + It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room--it's that that cuts so hard. + I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, + But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! + With a second-hand overcoat under my head, + And a beautiful view of the yard, + Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard!" + Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-- + 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! + So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. + For "drunk and resisting the Guard." + + + + +Gunga Din + + You may talk o' gin and beer + When you're quartered safe out 'ere, + An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; + But when it comes to slaughter + You will do your work on water, + An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. + Now in Injia's sunny clime, + Where I used to spend my time + A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, + Of all them blackfaced crew + The finest man I knew + Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. + He was "Din! Din! Din! + You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! + Hi! slippery hitherao! + Water, get it! Panee lao! + You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din." + + The uniform 'e wore + Was nothin' much before, + An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, + For a piece o' twisty rag + An' a goatskin water-bag + Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. + When the sweatin' troop-train lay + In a sidin' through the day, + Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, + We shouted "Harry By!" + Till our throats were bricky-dry, + Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. + It was "Din! Din! Din! + You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? + You put some juldee in it + Or I'll marrow you this minute + If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!" + + 'E would dot an' carry one + Till the longest day was done; + An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. + If we charged or broke or cut, + You could bet your bloomin' nut, + 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. + With 'is mussick on 'is back, + 'E would skip with our attack, + An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire", + An' for all 'is dirty 'ide + 'E was white, clear white, inside + When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! + It was "Din! Din! Din!" + With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. + When the cartridges ran out, + You could hear the front-files shout, + "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!" + + I shan't forgit the night + When I dropped be'ind the fight + With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been. + I was chokin' mad with thirst, + An' the man that spied me first + Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din. + 'E lifted up my 'ead, + An' he plugged me where I bled, + An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green: + It was crawlin' and it stunk, + But of all the drinks I've drunk, + I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. + It was "Din! Din! Din! + 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; + 'E's chawin' up the ground, + An' 'e's kickin' all around: + For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!" + + 'E carried me away + To where a dooli lay, + An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. + 'E put me safe inside, + An' just before 'e died, + "I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din. + So I'll meet 'im later on + At the place where 'e is gone-- + Where it's always double drill and no canteen; + 'E'll be squattin' on the coals + Givin' drink to poor damned souls, + An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! + Yes, Din! Din! Din! + You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! + Though I've belted you and flayed you, + By the livin' Gawd that made you, + You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! + + + + +Oonts + + (Northern India Transport Train) + + Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? + It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; + But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road + For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load. + O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont! + With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes; + We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt, + An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks. + + Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in, + An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin? + It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills, + It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills! + O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont! + A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm! + We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front, + An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm. + + The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool, + The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule; + But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done, + 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one. + O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! + The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies, + 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front, + An' when we get him up again--the beggar goes an' dies! + + 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight--'e smells most awful vile; + 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile; + 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through, + An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont! + When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim, + The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front-- + It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im. + + So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind, + An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind, + Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past: + 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last. + O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont! + The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies; + We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front, + But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies. + + + + +Loot + + If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, + If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, + If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack, + You will understand this little song o' mine. + But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred, + For the same with English morals does not suit. + (Cornet: Toot! toot!) + W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber + With the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot! + Bloomin' loot! + That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! + (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life, + You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; + An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife + That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well. + Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under + Why lootin' should be entered as a crime; + So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear + 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime. + (Chorus) With the loot,... + + Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god + That 'is eyes is very often precious stones; + An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod + 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. + When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor + Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink, + An' you're sure to touch the-- + (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Ow the loot!... + + When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs-- + It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find-- + For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, + An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind. + When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt + As if there weren't enough to dust a flute + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, + For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. + (Chorus) Ow the loot!... + + You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too, + If you only take the proper way to go; + I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew-- + An' don't you never say I told you so. + An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, + An' I see another tunin' up to toot + (Cornet: Toot! toot!)-- + So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es, + An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot! + (Chorus) Yes, the loot, + Bloomin' loot! + In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot! + It's the same with dogs an' men, + If you'd make 'em come again + (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! + + + + +'Snarleyow' + + This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps + Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; + An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now, + But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow. + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore, + To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, + They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow, + When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow. + + They cut 'im loose an' left 'im--'e was almost tore in two-- + But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do; + 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals: + "Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow--'is head's between 'is 'eels!" + + The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round, + An' there ain't no "Stop, conductor!" when a batt'ry's changin' ground; + Sez 'e: "I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, + But I couldn't pull up, not for you--your 'ead between your 'eels!" + + 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell + A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; + An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels, + There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels. + + Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain, + "For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain." + They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best, + So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest. + + The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt, + But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to "Action Front!" + An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head + 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread. + + The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen: + You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen-- + You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons-- + If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns! + Down in the Infantry, nobody cares; + Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears; + But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog + Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog! + + + + +The Widow at Windsor + + 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor + With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? + She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome, + An' she pays us poor beggars in red. + (Ow, poor beggars in red!) + There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses, + There's 'er mark on the medical stores-- + An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind + That takes us to various wars. + (Poor beggars!--barbarious wars!) + Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, + An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, + The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces + O' Missis Victorier's sons. + (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!) + + Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, + For 'alf o' Creation she owns: + We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame, + An' we've salted it down with our bones. + (Poor beggars!--it's blue with our bones!) + Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow, + Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, + For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown + When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"! + (Poor beggars!--we're sent to say "Stop"!) + Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, + From the Pole to the Tropics it runs-- + To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file, + An' open in form with the guns. + (Poor beggars!--it's always they guns!) + + We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, + It's safest to let 'er alone: + For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land + Wherever the bugles are blown. + (Poor beggars!--an' don't we get blown!) + Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin', + An' flop round the earth till you're dead; + But you won't get away from the tune that they play + To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. + (Poor beggars!--it's 'ot over'ead!) + Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, + Wherever, 'owever they roam. + 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require + A speedy return to their 'ome. + (Poor beggars!--they'll never see 'ome!) + + + + +Belts + + There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, + Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; + It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: + The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. + For it was:--"Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!" + An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!" + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + There was a row in Silver Street--the regiments was out, + They called us "Delhi Rebels", an' we answered "Threes about!" + That drew them like a hornet's nest--we met them good an' large, + The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. + Then it was:--"Belts..." + + There was a row in Silver Street--an' I was in it too; + We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! + I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm + A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. + O it was:--"Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--they sent the Polis there, + The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; + But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, + Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. + For it was:--"Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it might ha' raged till now, + But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; + 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: + An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. + While it was:--"Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--but that put down the shine, + Wid each man whisperin' to his next: "'Twas never work o' mine!" + We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, + The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. + When it was:--"Belts... + + There was a row in Silver Street--it isn't over yet, + For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; + 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: + There was a row in Silver Street--begod, I wonder why! + But it was:--"Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!" + An' it was "Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!" + O buckle an' tongue + Was the song that we sung + From Harrison's down to the Park! + + + + +The Young British Soldier + + When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East + 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, + An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased + Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, + You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, + An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: + A soldier what's fit for a soldier. + Fit, fit, fit for a soldier... + + First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, + For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts-- + Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts-- + An' it's bad for the young British soldier. + Bad, bad, bad for the soldier... + + When the cholera comes--as it will past a doubt-- + Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, + For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, + An' it crumples the young British soldier. + Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier... + + But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: + You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: + If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, + An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. + Fool, fool, fool of a soldier... + + If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, + Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; + Be handy and civil, and then you will find + That it's beer for the young British soldier. + Beer, beer, beer for the soldier... + + Now, if you must marry, take care she is old-- + A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, + For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, + Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. + 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier... + + If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath + To shoot when you catch 'em--you'll swing, on my oath!-- + Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, + An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. + Curse, curse, curse of a soldier... + + When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, + Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, + Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck + And march to your front like a soldier. + Front, front, front like a soldier... + + When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, + Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; + She's human as you are--you treat her as sich, + An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. + Fight, fight, fight for the soldier... + + When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, + The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, + Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, + For noise never startles the soldier. + Start-, start-, startles the soldier... + + If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, + Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: + So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, + And wait for supports like a soldier. + Wait, wait, wait like a soldier... + + When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, + And the women come out to cut up what remains, + Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains + An' go to your Gawd like a soldier. + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + Go, go, go like a soldier, + So-oldier of the Queen! + + + + +Mandalay + + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, + There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; + For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: + "Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!" + Come you back to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay: + Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay? + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + 'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, + An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, + An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, + An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: + Bloomin' idol made o'mud-- + Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd-- + Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! + On the road to Mandalay... + + When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, + She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!" + With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek + We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. + Elephints a-pilin' teak + In the sludgy, squdgy creek, + Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! + On the road to Mandalay... + + But that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away, + An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; + An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: + "If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else." + No! you won't 'eed nothin' else + But them spicy garlic smells, + An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; + On the road to Mandalay... + + I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, + An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; + Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, + An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand? + Beefy face an' grubby 'and-- + Law! wot do they understand? + I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! + On the road to Mandalay... + + Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, + Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst; + For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be-- + By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the old Flotilla lay, + With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! + On the road to Mandalay, + Where the flyin'-fishes play, + An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! + + + + +Troopin' + + (Our Army in the East) + + Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: + 'Ere's September come again--the six-year men are free. + O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away + To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail, + An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail. + Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay, + But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day. + + They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain, + All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain; + They'll kill us of pneumonia--for that's their little way-- + But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day! + + Troopin', troopin', winter's round again! + See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign; + Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay-- + What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day. + + Troopin', troopin', give another cheer-- + 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer. + The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay, + Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle--Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day. + We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, + Our ship is at the shore, + An' you must pack your 'aversack, + For we won't come back no more. + Ho, don't you grieve for me, + My lovely Mary-Ann, + For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit + As a time-expired man. + + + + +The Widow's Party + + "Where have you been this while away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They called us out of the barrack-yard + To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard, + And you can't refuse when you get the card, + And the Widow gives the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + "What did you get to eat and drink, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + Standing water as thick as ink, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + A bit o' beef that were three year stored, + A bit o' mutton as tough as a board, + And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword, + When the Widow give the party. + + "What did you do for knives and forks, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + We carries 'em with us wherever we walks, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + And some was sliced and some was halved, + And some was crimped and some was carved, + And some was gutted and some was starved, + When the Widow give the party. + + "What ha' you done with half your mess, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + They ate their whack and they drank their fill, + And I think the rations has made them ill, + For half my comp'ny's lying still + Where the Widow give the party. + + "How did you get away--away, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + I comed away like a bleedin' toff, + For I got four niggers to carry me off, + As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough, + When the Widow give the party. + + "What was the end of all the show, + Johnnie, Johnnie?" + Ask my Colonel, for I don't know, + Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha! + We broke a King and we built a road-- + A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed. + And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed + When the Widow give the party. + (Bugle: Ta--rara--ra-ra-rara!) + + + + +Ford o' Kabul River + + Kabul town's by Kabul river-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + There I lef' my mate for ever, + Wet an' drippin' by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town's a blasted place-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face + Wet an' drippin' by the ford! + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town is sun and dust-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' sooner drownded fust + 'Stead of 'im beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin', + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Kabul town was ours to take-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + I'd ha' left it for 'is sake-- + 'Im that left me by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there, + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark? + + Kabul town'll go to hell-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Fore I see him 'live an' well-- + 'Im the best beside the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under, + By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + Turn your 'orse from Kabul town-- + Blow the bugle, draw the sword-- + 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down, + Down an' drownded by the ford. + Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river, + Ford o' Kabul river in the dark! + There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin' + 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark. + + + + +Gentlemen-Rankers + + To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, + To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, + Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed, + And a trooper of the Empress, if you please. + Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses, + And faith he went the pace and went it blind, + And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin, + But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops, + And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell, + To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops + And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well. + Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be "Rider" to your troop, + And branded with a blasted worsted spur, + When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly + Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you "Sir". + + If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep, + And all we know most distant and most dear, + Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep, + Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer? + When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters + And the horror of our fall is written plain, + Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling, + Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? + + We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth, + We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung, + And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth. + God help us, for we knew the worst too young! + Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence, + Our pride it is to know no spur of pride, + And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us + And we die, and none can tell Them where we died. + We're poor little lambs who've lost our way, + Baa! Baa! Baa! + We're little black sheep who've gone astray, + Baa--aa--aa! + Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree, + Damned from here to Eternity, + God ha' mercy on such as we, + Baa! Yah! Bah! + + + + +Route Marchin' + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, + A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!"-- + "Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?" + Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see, + There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree, + An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind, + An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind. + While it's best foot first,... + + At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come, + Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome. + But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts, + While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts. + An' it's best foot first,... + + Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings, + An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things, + An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at, + An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat. + An' it's best foot first,... + It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease, + To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees, + For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards, + So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards. + Till it's best foot first,... + + So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore, + There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore; + An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell, + You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well. + For it's best foot first,... + + We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand, + Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band; + Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed, + There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road; + With its best foot first + And the road a-sliding past, + An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last; + While the Big Drum says, + With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!"-- + "Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?" + + + + +Shillin' a Day + + My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly + From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, + Hong-Kong and Peshawur, + Lucknow and Etawah, + And fifty-five more all endin' in "pore". + Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness, + Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way, + But I'm old and I'm nervis, + I'm cast from the Service, + And all I deserve is a shillin' a day. + (Chorus) Shillin' a day, + Bloomin' good pay-- + Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day! + + Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I + Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side, + When we rode Hell-for-leather + Both squadrons together, + That didn't care whether we lived or we died. + But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin' + An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better, + So if me you be'old + In the wet and the cold, + By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter? + (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter-- + 'Can't do no better, + Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'--runs with a letter! + Think what 'e's been, + Think what 'e's seen, + Think of his pension an'---- + + Gawd save the Queen + + + + + +Second Series (1896) + + + + +'Bobs' + + There's a little red-faced man, + Which is Bobs, + Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can- + Our Bobs, + If it bucks or kicks or rears, + 'E can sit for twenty years + With a smile round both 'is ears- + Can't yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's or pukka Kandaharder- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel; + 'E's the man that done us well, + An' we'll follow 'im to 'ell- + Won't we Bobs? + + If a limber's slipped a trace, + 'Ook on Bobs. + If a marker's lost 'is place, + Dress by Bobs. + For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat, + An' a bugle in 'is throat, + An' you will not play the goat + Under Bobs. + + 'E's a little down on drink, + Chaplain Bobs; + But it keeps us outer Clink- + Don't it Bobs? + So we will not complain + Tho' 'e's water on the brain, + If 'e leads us straight again- + Blue-light Bobs. + + If you stood 'im on 'is head + Father Bobs, + You could spill a quart o' lead + Outer Bobs. + 'E's been at it thirty years, + An' amassin souveneers + In the way o' slugs an' spears- + Ain't yer, Bobs? + + What 'e does not Know o' war, + Gen'ral Bobs, + You can arst the shop next door- + Can't they, Bobs? + Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise; + 'E's a terror for 'is size, + An'-'e-does-not-advertise- + Do yer, Bobs? + + Now they've made a bloomin' Lord + Outer Bobs, + Which was but 'is fair reward- + Weren't it Bobs? + So 'e'll wear a coronet + Where 'is 'elmet used to set; + But we know you won't forget- + Will yer, Bobs? + + Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur-- + Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + Pocket-Wellin'ton an' arder-- + Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! + This ain't no bloomin' ode, + But you've 'elped the soldier's load, + An' for benefits bestowed, + Bless yer, Bobs! + + + + +'Back to the Army Again' + + I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, + A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; + My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots, + An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card, + I'm back to the Army again! + + I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good-day-- + You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay; + An' fourpence a day for baccy--an' bloomin' gen'rous, too; + An' now you can make your fortune--the same as your orf'cers do." + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Ow did I learn to do right-about turn? + I'm back to the Army again! + + A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade-- + Beside "Reserve" agin' him--'e'd better be never made. + I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me, + An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt-- + I'm back to the Army again! + + The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye, + 'E sez to me, "'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by; + For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight + When me an' the other rookies come under the barrick-gate. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I took my bath, an' I wallered--for, Gawd, I needed it so! + I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go. + I 'eard the feet on the gravel--the feet o' the men what drill-- + An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, "Peace, be still!" + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again; + 'Oo said I knew when the Jumner was due? + I'm back to the Army again! + + I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, "None o' your lip! + You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip, + For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid." An' 'e sez to me, "Strike me dead, + But I thought you was used to the business!" an' so 'e done what I said. + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again. + Rather too free with my fancies? Wot--me? + I'm back to the Army again! + + Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane; + They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again + In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay, + An'--any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day! + + Back to the Army again, sergeant, + Back to the Army again: + Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant, + Out o' the cold an' the rain. + + 'Oo's there? + A man that's too good to be lost you, + A man that is 'andled an' made-- + A man that will pay what 'e cost you + In learnin' the others their trade--parade! + You're droppin' the pick o' the Army + Because you don't 'elp 'em remain, + But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street + An' back to the Army again! + + + + +'Birds of Prey' March + + March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. + Front!--eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. + Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses + Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship. + + Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory. + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! + The Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner. + Time!--mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close. + Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er-- + Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows. + + March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted! + Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away. + 'Alt, an' 'and 'er out--a woman's gone and fainted! + Cheer! Get on--Gawd 'elp the married men to-day! + + Hoi! Come up, you 'ungry beggars, to yer sorrow. + ('Ear them say they want their tea, an' want it quick!) + You won't have no mind for slingers, not to-morrow-- + No; you'll put the 'tween-decks stove out, bein' sick! + + 'Alt! The married kit 'as all to go before us! + 'Course it's blocked the bloomin' gangway up again! + Cheer, O cheer the 'Orse Guards watchin' tender o'er us, + Keepin' us since eight this mornin' in the rain! + + Stuck in 'eavy marchin'-order, sopped and wringin'-- + Sick, before our time to watch 'er 'eave an' fall, + 'Ere's your 'appy 'ome at last, an' stop your singin'. + 'Alt! Fall in along the troop-deck! Silence all! + + Cheer! For we'll never live to see no bloomin' victory! + Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar! (One cheer more!) + The jackal an' the kite + 'Ave an 'ealthy appetite, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + The eagle an' the crow + They are waitin' ever so, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! ('Ip! Urroar!) + Yes, the Large Birds o' Prey + They will carry us away, + An' you'll never see your soldiers any more! + + + + +'Soldier an' Salor Too' + + As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, + I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. + 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, + an' I sez to 'im, "'Oo are you?" + Sez 'e, "I'm a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too!" + Now 'is work begins by Gawd knows when, and 'is work is never through; + 'E isn't one o' the reg'lar Line, nor 'e isn't one of the crew. + 'E's a kind of a giddy harumfrodite--soldier an' sailor too! + + An' after I met 'im all over the world, a-doin' all kinds of things, + Like landin' 'isself with a Gatlin' gun to talk to them 'eathen kings; + 'E sleeps in an 'ammick instead of a cot, + an' 'e drills with the deck on a slew, + An' 'e sweats like a Jolly--'Er Majesty's Jolly--soldier an' sailor too! + For there isn't a job on the top o' the earth the beggar don't know, nor do-- + You can leave 'im at night on a bald man's 'ead, to paddle 'is own canoe-- + 'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse--soldier an' sailor too. + + We've fought 'em in trooper, we've fought 'em in dock, + and drunk with 'em in betweens, + When they called us the seasick scull'ry-maids, + an' we called 'em the Ass Marines; + But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo, + We sent for the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They think for 'emselves, an' they steal for 'emselves, + and they never ask what's to do, + But they're camped an' fed an' they're up an' fed before our bugle's blew. + Ho! they ain't no limpin' procrastitutes--soldier an' sailor too. + + You may say we are fond of an 'arness-cut, or 'ootin' in barrick-yards, + Or startin' a Board School mutiny along o' the Onion Guards; + But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view, + The same as the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; + they was beggars we'd met an' knew; + Yes, barrin' an inch in the chest an' the arm, they was doubles o' me an' you; + For they weren't no special chrysanthemums--soldier an' sailor too! + + To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about, + Is nothing so bad when you've cover to 'and, an' leave an' likin' to shout; + But to stand an' be still to the Birken'ead drill + is a damn tough bullet to chew, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + Their work was done when it 'adn't begun; they was younger nor me an' you; + Their choice it was plain between drownin' in 'eaps + an' bein' mopped by the screw, + So they stood an' was still to the Birken'ead drill, soldier an' sailor too! + + We're most of us liars, we're 'arf of us thieves, + an' the rest are as rank as can be, + But once in a while we can finish in style + (which I 'ope it won't 'appen to me). + But it makes you think better o' you an' your friends, + an' the work you may 'ave to do, + When you think o' the sinkin' Victorier's Jollies--soldier an' sailor too! + Now there isn't no room for to say ye don't know-- + they 'ave proved it plain and true-- + That whether it's Widow, or whether it's ship, Victorier's work is to do, + An' they done it, the Jollies--'Er Majesty's Jollies-- + soldier an' sailor too! + + + + +Sappers + + When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, + ("It's all one," says the Sapper), + The Lord He created the Engineer, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineer, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + When the Flood come along for an extra monsoon, + 'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon + To the plans of Her Majesty's, etc. + + But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun, + Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done + If he'd trained with, etc. + + When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat, + Some clever civilian was managing that, + An' none of, etc. + + When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill, + Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still, + For he was a Captain of Engineers, etc. + + When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw, + They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps, + The work of, etc. + + For ever since then, if a war they would wage, + Behold us a-shinin' on history's page-- + First page for, etc. + + We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain, + An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign, + In the style of, etc. + + They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine + To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line, + But bent by, etc. + + They send us behind with a pick an' a spade, + To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade + Which has asked for, etc. + + We work under escort in trousers and shirt, + An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt, + Annoying, etc. + + We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud, + We make 'em good roads an'--they roll down the khud, + Reporting, etc. + + We make 'em their bridges, their wells, an' their huts, + An' the telegraph-wire the enemy cuts, + An' it's blamed on, etc. + + An' when we return, an' from war we would cease, + They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace, + Which are kept for, etc. + + We build 'em nice barracks--they swear they are bad, + That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, + Insultin', etc. + + They haven't no manners nor gratitude too, + For the more that we help 'em, the less will they do, + But mock at, etc. + + Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand, + An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand, + When helped by, etc. + + Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground, + But we are the men that do something all round, + For we are, etc. + + I have stated it plain, an' my argument's thus + ("It's all one," says the Sapper), + There's only one Corps which is perfect--that's us; + An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers, + Her Majesty's Royal Engineers, + With the rank and pay of a Sapper! + + + + +That Day + + It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; + It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. + 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope; + It were just a bloomin' knock-out--an' our fault! + + Now there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + An' I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + We was sick o' bein' punished, an' we let 'em know it, too; + An' a company-commander up an' 'it us with a sword, + An' some one shouted "'Ook it!" an' it come to sove-ki-poo, + An' we chucked our rifles from us--O my Gawd! + + There was thirty dead an' wounded on the ground we wouldn't keep-- + No, there wasn't more than twenty when the front begun to go; + But, Christ! along the line o' flight they cut us up like sheep, + An' that was all we gained by doin' so. + + I 'eard the knives be'ind me, but I dursn't face my man, + Nor I don't know where I went to, 'cause I didn't 'alt to see, + Till I 'eard a beggar squealin' out for quarter as 'e ran, + An' I thought I knew the voice an'--it was me! + + We was 'idin' under bedsteads more than 'arf a march away; + We was lyin' up like rabbits all about the countryside; + An' the major cursed 'is Maker 'cause 'e lived to see that day, + An' the colonel broke 'is sword acrost, an' cried. + + We was rotten 'fore we started--we was never disciplined; + We made it out a favour if an order was obeyed; + Yes, every little drummer 'ad 'is rights an' wrongs to mind, + So we had to pay for teachin'--an' we paid! + + The papers 'id it 'andsome, but you know the Army knows; + We was put to groomin' camels till the regiments withdrew, + An' they gave us each a medal for subduin' England's foes, + An' I 'ope you like my song--because it's true! + + An' there ain't no chorus 'ere to give, + Nor there ain't no band to play; + But I wish I was dead 'fore I done what I did, + Or seen what I seed that day! + + + + +'The Men that fought at Minden' + + A Song of Instruction + + The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time-- + So was them that fought at Waterloo! + All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand, + They was once dam' sweeps like you! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad stocks beneath their chins, + Six inch 'igh an' more; + But fatigue it was their pride, and they would not be denied + To clean the cook-'ouse floor. + + The men that fought at Minden, they had anarchistic bombs + Served to 'em by name of 'and-grenades; + But they got it in the eye (same as you will by-an'-by) + When they clubbed their field-parades. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad buttons up an' down, + Two-an'-twenty dozen of 'em told; + But they didn't grouse an' shirk at an hour's extry work, + They kept 'em bright as gold. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was armed with musketoons, + Also, they was drilled by 'alberdiers; + I don't know what they were, but the sergeants took good care + They washed be'ind their ears. + + The men that fought at Minden, they 'ad ever cash in 'and + Which they did not bank nor save, + But spent it gay an' free on their betters--such as me-- + For the good advice I gave. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was civil--yuss, they was-- + Never didn't talk o' rights an' wrongs, + But they got it with the toe (same as you will get it--so!)-- + For interrupting songs. + + The men that fought at Minden, they was several other things + Which I don't remember clear; + But that's the reason why, now the six-year men are dry, + The rooks will stand the beer! + + Then do not be discouraged, 'Eaven is your 'elper, + We'll learn you not to forget; + An' you mustn't swear an' curse, or you'll only catch it worse, + For we'll make you soldiers yet! + + Soldiers yet, if you've got it in you-- + All for the sake of the Core; + Soldiers yet, if we 'ave to skin you-- + Run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw--Johnny Raw! + Ho! run an' get the beer, Johnny Raw! + + + + +Cholera Camp + + We've got the cholerer in camp--it's worse than forty fights; + We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites; + It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away, + An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day! + + Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin', + The Rains are fallin'-- + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below; + The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us; + The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us-- + To 'ear us-- + O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so! + + Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail, + Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail; + But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away; + An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day. + + There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink; + It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think; + An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say, + "Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!" + + 'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things-- + Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings, + An' Lances actin' Sergeants--eight file to obey-- + For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day! + + Our Colonel's white an' twitterly--'e gets no sleep nor food, + But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good. + 'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay-- + But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day. + + Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides, + An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides! + With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay! + 'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day. + + An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks-- + He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks; + An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray; + So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day. + + We've got the cholerer in camp--we've got it 'ot an' sweet; + It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat. + We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay, + An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day! + + Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin', + The Bugle's callin'! + The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below! + An' them that do not like it they can lump it, + An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it; + We've got to die somewhere--some way--some'ow-- + We might as well begin to do it now! + Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow, + Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners--so! + Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow! + Oh, strike--oh, strike your camp an' go! + (Gawd 'elp us!) + + + + +The Ladies + + I've taken my fun where I've found it; + I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; + I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, + An' four o' the lot was prime. + One was an 'arf-caste widow, + One was a woman at Prome, + One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, + An' one is a girl at 'ome. + + Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, + For, takin' 'em all along, + You never can say till you've tried 'em, + An' then you are like to be wrong. + There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, + There's times when you'll know that you might; + But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, + They'll 'elp you a lot with the White! + + I was a young un at 'Oogli, + Shy as a girl to begin; + Aggie de Castrer she made me, + An' Aggie was clever as sin; + Older than me, but my first un-- + More like a mother she were-- + Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I was ordered to Burma, + Actin' in charge o' Bazar, + An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen + Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. + Funny an' yellow an' faithful-- + Doll in a teacup she were, + But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, + An' I learned about women from 'er! + + Then we was shifted to Neemuch + (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), + An' I took with a shiny she-devil, + The wife of a nigger at Mhow; + 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; + Kind o' volcano she were, + For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, + And I learned about women from 'er! + + Then I come 'ome in the trooper, + 'Long of a kid o' sixteen-- + Girl from a convent at Meerut, + The straightest I ever 'ave seen. + Love at first sight was 'er trouble, + She didn't know what it were; + An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, + But--I learned about women from 'er! + + I've taken my fun where I've found it, + An' now I must pay for my fun, + For the more you 'ave known o' the others + The less will you settle to one; + An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', + An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; + So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), + An' learn about women from me! + + What did the Colonel's Lady think? + Nobody never knew. + Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, + An' she told 'em true! + When you get to a man in the case, + They're like as a row of pins-- + For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady + Are sisters under their skins! + + + + +Bill 'Awkins + + "'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?" + "Now 'ow in the devil would I know?" + "'E's taken my girl out walkin', + An' I've got to tell 'im so-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I've got to tell 'im so." + + "D'yer know what 'e's like, Bill 'Awkins?" + "Now what in the devil would I care?" + "'E's the livin', breathin' image of an organ-grinder's monkey, + With a pound of grease in 'is 'air-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' a pound o' grease in 'is 'air." + + "An' s'pose you met Bill 'Awkins, + Now what in the devil 'ud ye do?" + "I'd open 'is cheek to 'is chin-strap buckle, + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + An' bung up 'is both eyes, too!" + + "Look 'ere, where 'e comes, Bill 'Awkins! + Now what in the devil will you say?" + "It isn't fit an' proper to be fightin' on a Sunday, + So I'll pass 'im the time o' day-- + Gawd--bless--'im! + I'll pass 'im the time o' day!" + + + + +The Mother-Lodge + + There was Rundle, Station Master, + An' Beazeley of the Rail, + An' 'Ackman, Commissariat, + An' Donkin' o' the Jail; + An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent, + Our Master twice was 'e, + With 'im that kept the Europe-shop, + Old Framjee Eduljee. + + Outside--"Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" + Inside--"Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + We'd Bola Nath, Accountant, + An' Saul the Aden Jew, + An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman + Of the Survey Office too; + There was Babu Chuckerbutty, + An' Amir Singh the Sikh, + An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds, + The Roman Catholick! + + We 'adn't good regalia, + An' our Lodge was old an' bare, + But we knew the Ancient Landmarks, + An' we kep' 'em to a hair; + An' lookin' on it backwards + It often strikes me thus, + There ain't such things as infidels, + Excep', per'aps, it's us. + + For monthly, after Labour, + We'd all sit down and smoke + (We dursn't give no banquits, + Lest a Brother's caste were broke), + An' man on man got talkin' + Religion an' the rest, + An' every man comparin' + Of the God 'e knew the best. + + So man on man got talkin', + An' not a Brother stirred + Till mornin' waked the parrots + An' that dam' brain-fever-bird; + We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious, + An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed, + With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva + Changin' pickets in our 'ead. + + Full oft on Guv'ment service + This rovin' foot 'ath pressed, + An' bore fraternal greetin's + To the Lodges east an' west, + Accordin' as commanded + From Kohat to Singapore, + But I wish that I might see them + In my Mother-Lodge once more! + + I wish that I might see them, + My Brethren black an' brown, + With the trichies smellin' pleasant + An' the hog-darn passin' down; + An' the old khansamah snorin' + On the bottle-khana floor, + Like a Master in good standing + With my Mother-Lodge once more! + + Outside--"Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!" + Inside--"Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm. + We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square, + An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! + + + + +'Follow Me 'Ome' + + There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, + Nor any o' the Guns I knew; + An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died, + Which is just what the best men do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin', + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + 'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long, + She paws the 'ole night through, + An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step, + Which is just what a beast would do. + + 'Is girl she goes with a bombardier + Before 'er month is through; + An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked, + Which is just what a girl would do. + + We fought 'bout a dog--last week it were-- + No more than a round or two; + But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now, + Which is just what a man can't do. + + 'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend, + An' I've 'ad to find one new; + But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back, + Which it's just too late to do. + + So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me! + An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me! + Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'! + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go. + Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow. + Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come. + Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum. + + For it's "Three rounds blank" an' follow me, + An' it's "Thirteen rank" an' follow me; + Oh, passin' the love o' women, + Follow me--follow me 'ome! + + + + +The Sergeant's Weddin' + + 'E was warned agin' 'er-- + That's what made 'im look; + She was warned agin' 'im-- + That is why she took. + 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, + 'Went an' done it blind; + We know all about 'em, + They've got all to find! + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + What's the use o' tellin' + 'Arf the lot she's been? + 'E's a bloomin' robber, + An' 'e keeps canteen. + 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? + Gawd, you needn't ask! + 'Made 'is forty gallon + Out of every cask! + + Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, + Count us filin' by-- + Won't the Colonel praise 'is + Pop--u--lar--i--ty! + We 'ave scores to settle-- + Scores for more than beer; + She's the girl to pay 'em-- + That is why we're 'ere! + + See the chaplain thinkin'? + See the women smile? + Twig the married winkin' + As they take the aisle? + Keep your side-arms quiet, + Dressin' by the Band. + Ho! You 'oly beggars, + Cough be'ind your 'and! + + Now it's done an' over, + 'Ear the organ squeak, + "'Voice that breathed o'er Eden"-- + Ain't she got the cheek! + White an' laylock ribbons, + Think yourself so fine! + I'd pray Gawd to take yer + 'Fore I made yer mine! + + Escort to the kerridge, + Wish 'im luck, the brute! + Chuck the slippers after-- + (Pity 'tain't a boot!) + Bowin' like a lady, + Blushin' like a lad-- + 'Oo would say to see 'em + Both is rotten bad? + + Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- + Give 'em one cheer more! + Grey gun-'orses in the lando, + An' a rogue is married to, etc. + + + +The Jacket + + Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, + Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; + An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry, + An' you might 'ave 'eard us talkin' at the gun. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, an' the jacket it was new-- + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the wettin' of the jacket is the proper thing to do, + Nor we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + + One day they gave us orders for to shell a sand redoubt, + Loadin' down the axle-arms with case; + But the Captain knew 'is dooty, an' he took the crackers out + An' he put some proper liquor in its place. + An' the Captain saw the shrapnel, which is six-an'-thirty clear. + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + "Will you draw the weight," sez 'e, "or will you draw the beer?" + An' we didn't keep 'im waitin' very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + Then we trotted gentle, not to break the bloomin' glass, + Though the Arabites 'ad all their ranges marked; + But we dursn't 'ardly gallop, for the most was bottled Bass, + An' we'd dreamed of it since we was disembarked: + So we fired economic with the shells we 'ad in 'and, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + But the beggars under cover 'ad the impidence to stand, + An' we couldn't keep 'em waitin' very long. + And the Captain, etc. + + So we finished 'arf the liquor (an' the Captain took champagne), + An' the Arabites was shootin' all the while; + An' we left our wounded 'appy with the empties on the plain, + An' we used the bloomin' guns for pro-jec-tile! + We limbered up an' galloped--there were nothin' else to do-- + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Battery came a-boundin' like a boundin' kangaroo, + But they didn't watch us comin' very long. + As the Captain, etc. + + We was goin' most extended--we was drivin' very fine, + An' the Arabites were loosin' 'igh an' wide, + Till the Captain took the glassy with a rattlin' right incline, + An' we dropped upon their 'eads the other side. + Then we give 'em quarter--such as 'adn't up and cut, + ('Orse Gunners, listen to my song!) + An' the Captain stood a limberful of fizzy--somethin' Brutt, + But we didn't leave it fizzing very long. + For the Captain, etc. + + We might ha' been court-martialled, but it all come out all right + When they signalled us to join the main command. + There was every round expended, there was every gunner tight, + An' the Captain waved a corkscrew in 'is 'and. + But the Captain 'ad 'is jacket, etc. + + + + +The 'Eathen + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, + An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. + + All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, + All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less, + All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + The young recruit is 'aughty--'e draf's from Gawd knows where; + They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; + 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense--'e doesn't know no more-- + An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor! + + The young recruit is 'ammered--'e takes it very 'ard; + 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters--'e sulks about the yard; + 'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" 'e'll swing for by-an'-by, + An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. + + The young recruit is silly--'e thinks o' suicide; + 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; + But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, + Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. + + Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess, + Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less; + Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho, + Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so! + + The young recruit is 'appy--'e throws a chest to suit; + You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; + 'E learns to drop the "bloodies" from every word 'e slings, + An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. + + The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year; + They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; + They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance, + And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for "Lance". + + An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, + 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; + They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, + But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man. + + An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, + 'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade; + They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, + An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. + + 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; + 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; + 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; + An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. + + An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, + An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; + 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; + 'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. + + 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; + 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; + 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, + An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. + + An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, + An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; + So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, + They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. + + Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much + Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. + It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, + But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! + + An' now it's "'Oo goes backward?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on?" + And now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone; + An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear + 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. + + 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, + But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit; + The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, + An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! + + The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; + 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; + The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, + But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man! + + Keep away from dirtiness--keep away from mess. + Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less! + Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; + Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! + + The Shut-Eye Sentry + Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant + To the Senior Orderly Man: + "Our Orderly Orf'cer's hokee-mut, + You 'elp 'im all you can. + For the wine was old and the night is cold, + An' the best we may go wrong, + So, 'fore 'e gits to the sentry-box, + You pass the word along." + + So it was "Rounds! What Rounds?" at two of a frosty night, + 'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight! + 'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by. + + The moon was white on the barricks, + The road was white an' wide, + An' the Orderly Orf'cer took it all, + An' the ten-foot ditch beside. + An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed, + An' the three they danced along, + But I'd shut my eyes in the sentry-box, + So I didn't see nothin' wrong. + + Though it was "Rounds! What Rounds?" O corporal, 'old 'im up! + 'E's usin' 'is cap as it shouldn't be used, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" Ho, shun the foamin' cup! + 'E'll need, etc. + + 'Twas after four in the mornin'; + We 'ad to stop the fun, + An' we sent 'im 'ome on a bullock-cart, + With 'is belt an' stock undone; + But we sluiced 'im down an' we washed 'im out, + An' a first-class job we made, + When we saved 'im, smart as a bombardier, + For six-o'clock parade. + + It 'ad been "Rounds! What Rounds?" Oh, shove 'im straight again! + 'E's usin' 'is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it was "Pass! All's well!" 'E's called me "Darlin' Jane"! + 'E'll need, etc. + + The drill was long an' 'eavy, + The sky was 'ot an' blue, + An' 'is eye was wild an' 'is 'air was wet, + But 'is sergeant pulled 'im through. + Our men was good old trusties-- + They'd done it on their 'ead; + But you ought to 'ave 'eard 'em markin' time + To 'ide the things 'e said! + + For it was "Right flank--wheel!" for "'Alt, an' stand at ease!" + An' "Left extend!" for "Centre close!" O marker, shut your eye! + An' it was, "'Ere, sir, 'ere! before the Colonel sees!" + So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an'-by. + + There was two-an'-thirty sergeants, + There was corp'rals forty-one, + There was just nine 'undred rank an' file + To swear to a touch o' sun. + There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box, + As I 'ave not told in my song, + But I took my oath, which were Bible truth, + I 'adn't seen nothin' wrong. + + There's them that's 'ot an' 'aughty, + There's them that's cold an' 'ard, + But there comes a night when the best gets tight, + And then turns out the Guard. + I've seen them 'ide their liquor + In every kind o' way, + But most depends on makin' friends + With Privit Thomas A.! + + When it is "Rounds! What Rounds?" 'E's breathin' through 'is nose. + 'E's reelin', rollin', roarin' tight, but, sentry, shut your eye. + An' it is "Pass! All's well!" An' that's the way it goes: + We'll 'elp 'im for 'is mother, an' 'e'll 'elp us by-an'-by! + + + + +'Mary, Pity Women!' + + You call yourself a man, + For all you used to swear, + An' leave me, as you can, + My certain shame to bear? + I 'ear! You do not care-- + You done the worst you know. + I 'ate you, grinnin' there.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over-- + Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover! + What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + + It aren't no false alarm, + The finish to your fun; + You--you 'ave brung the 'arm, + An' I'm the ruined one; + An' now you'll off an' run + With some new fool in tow. + Your 'eart? You 'aven't none.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; + All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. + What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im + (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im? + + What 'ope for me or--it? + What's left for us to do? + I've walked with men a bit, + But this--but this is you. + So 'elp me Christ, it's true! + Where can I 'ide or go? + You coward through and through!... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'-- + Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'. + Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' + (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'! + + You'd like to treat me fair? + You can't, because we're pore? + We'd starve? What do I care! + We might, but this is shore! + I want the name--no more-- + The name, an' lines to show, + An' not to be an 'ore.... + Ah, Gawd, I love you so! + + What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you + (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you? + Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow + (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow! + + + + +For to Admire + + The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle from the screw. + The ship is swep', the day is done, + The bugle's gone for smoke and play; + An' black agin' the settin' sun + The Lascar sings, "Hum deckty hai!" + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + I see the sergeants pitchin' quoits, + I 'ear the women laugh an' talk, + I spy upon the quarter-deck + The orficers an' lydies walk. + I thinks about the things that was, + An' leans an' looks acrost the sea, + Till spite of all the crowded ship + There's no one lef' alive but me. + + The things that was which I 'ave seen, + In barrick, camp, an' action too, + I tells them over by myself, + An' sometimes wonders if they're true; + For they was odd--most awful odd-- + But all the same now they are o'er, + There must be 'eaps o' plenty such, + An' if I wait I'll see some more. + + Oh, I 'ave come upon the books, + An' frequent broke a barrick rule, + An' stood beside an' watched myself + Be'avin' like a bloomin' fool. + I paid my price for findin' out, + Nor never grutched the price I paid, + But sat in Clink without my boots, + Admirin' 'ow the world was made. + + Be'old a crowd upon the beam, + An' 'umped above the sea appears + Old Aden, like a barrick-stove + That no one's lit for years an' years! + I passed by that when I began, + An' I go 'ome the road I came, + A time-expired soldier-man + With six years' service to 'is name. + + My girl she said, "Oh, stay with me!" + My mother 'eld me to 'er breast. + They've never written none, an' so + They must 'ave gone with all the rest-- + With all the rest which I 'ave seen + An' found an' known an' met along. + I cannot say the things I feel, + And so I sing my evenin' song: + + For to admire an' for to see, + For to be'old this world so wide-- + It never done no good to me, + But I can't drop it if I tried! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrack-Room Ballads, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS *** + +***** This file should be named 2819.txt or 2819.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/2819/ + +Produced by David Reed + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.zip b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ed7877 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2024-09-28/2819.zip |