The Project Gutenberg eBook ofVerses 1889-1896This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Verses 1889-1896Author: Rudyard KiplingRelease date: June 29, 2008 [eBook #323]Most recently updated: January 28, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERSES 1889-1896 ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Verses 1889-1896Author: Rudyard KiplingRelease date: June 29, 2008 [eBook #323]Most recently updated: January 28, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger
Title: Verses 1889-1896
Author: Rudyard Kipling
Author: Rudyard Kipling
Release date: June 29, 2008 [eBook #323]Most recently updated: January 28, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERSES 1889-1896 ***
CONTENTSCONTENTS FOLLOWED BY FIRST LINESBARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHERSTOMMY“FUZZY-WUZZY”SOLDIER, SOLDIERSCREW-GUNSCELLSGUNGA DINOONTSLOOT“SNARLEYOW”THE WIDOW AT WINDSORBELTSTHE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIERMANDALAYTROOPIN'THE WIDOW'S PARTYFORD O' KABUL RIVERGENTLEMEN-RANKERSROUTE MARCHIN'SHILLIN' A DAYOTHER VERSESTHE BALLAD OF EAST AND WESTTHE LAST SUTTEETHE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCYTHE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JESTWITH SCINDIA TO DELHITHE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONETHE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEFTHE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINSTHE BALLAD OF THE “CLAMPHERDOWN”THE BALLAD OF THE “BOLIVAR”THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEBTHE EXPLANATIONTHE GIFT OF THE SEAEVARRA AND HIS GODSTHE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPSTHE LEGEND OF EVILTHE ENGLISH FLAG“CLEARED”AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPTTOMLINSONL'ENVOI TO “LIFE'S HANDICAP”L'ENVOITHE SEVEN SEASDEDICATIONTHE SEVEN SEASA SONG OF THE ENGLISHTHE FIRST CHANTEYTHE LAST CHANTEYTHE MERCHANTMENM'ANDREW'S HYMNTHE MIRACLESTHE NATIVE-BORNTHE KINGTHE RHYME OF THE THREE SEALERSTHE DERELICTTHE ANSWERTHE SONG OF THE BANJOTHE LINER SHE'S A LADYMULHOLLAND'S CONTRACTANCHOR SONGTHE LOST LEGIONTHE SEA-WIFEHYMN BEFORE ACTIONTO THE TRUE ROMANCETHE FLOWERSTHE LAST RHYME OF TRUE THOMASIN THE NEOLITHIC AGETHE STORY OF UNGTHE THREE-DECKERAN AMERICANTHE “MARY GLOSTER”SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYALBARRACK-ROOM BALLADS“BACK TO THE ARMY AGAIN”“BIRDS OF PREY” MARCH“SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO”SAPPERSTHAT DAY“THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN”CHOLERA CAMPTHE LADIESBILL 'AWKINSTHE MOTHER-LODGE“FOLLOW ME 'OME”THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN'THE JACKETTHE 'EATHENTHE SHUT-EYE SENTRY“MARY, PITY WOMEN!”FOR TO ADMIREL'ENVOI
CONTENTS
CONTENTS FOLLOWED BY FIRST LINES
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHERS
TOMMY
“FUZZY-WUZZY”
SOLDIER, SOLDIER
SCREW-GUNS
CELLS
GUNGA DIN
OONTS
LOOT
“SNARLEYOW”
THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR
BELTS
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER
MANDALAY
TROOPIN'
THE WIDOW'S PARTY
FORD O' KABUL RIVER
GENTLEMEN-RANKERS
ROUTE MARCHIN'
SHILLIN' A DAY
OTHER VERSES
THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST
THE LAST SUTTEE
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST
WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI
THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE
THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF
THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS
THE BALLAD OF THE “CLAMPHERDOWN”
THE BALLAD OF THE “BOLIVAR”
THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB
THE EXPLANATION
THE GIFT OF THE SEA
EVARRA AND HIS GODS
THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS
THE LEGEND OF EVIL
THE ENGLISH FLAG
“CLEARED”
AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT
TOMLINSON
L'ENVOI TO “LIFE'S HANDICAP”
L'ENVOI
THE SEVEN SEAS
DEDICATION
THE SEVEN SEAS
A SONG OF THE ENGLISH
THE FIRST CHANTEY
THE LAST CHANTEY
THE MERCHANTMEN
M'ANDREW'S HYMN
THE MIRACLES
THE NATIVE-BORN
THE KING
THE RHYME OF THE THREE SEALERS
THE DERELICT
THE ANSWER
THE SONG OF THE BANJO
THE LINER SHE'S A LADY
MULHOLLAND'S CONTRACT
ANCHOR SONG
THE LOST LEGION
THE SEA-WIFE
HYMN BEFORE ACTION
TO THE TRUE ROMANCE
THE FLOWERS
THE LAST RHYME OF TRUE THOMAS
IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE
THE STORY OF UNG
THE THREE-DECKER
AN AMERICAN
THE “MARY GLOSTER”
SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
“BACK TO THE ARMY AGAIN”
“BIRDS OF PREY” MARCH
“SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO”
SAPPERS
THAT DAY
“THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN”
CHOLERA CAMP
THE LADIES
BILL 'AWKINS
THE MOTHER-LODGE
“FOLLOW ME 'OME”
THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN'
THE JACKET
THE 'EATHEN
THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY
“MARY, PITY WOMEN!”
FOR TO ADMIRE
L'ENVOI
TO WOLCOTT BALESTIERBeyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled —
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
To T. A.I have made for you a song,
DANNY DEEVER“What are the bugles blowin' for?” said Files-on-Parade.
TOMMYI went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
“FUZZY-WUZZY”We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
SOLDIER, SOLDIER“Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
SCREW-GUNSSmokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
CELLSI've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick:
GUNGA DINYou may talk o' gin and beer
OONTSWot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire?
LOOTIf you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
“SNARLEYOW”This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps,
THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor?
BELTSThere was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIERWhen the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East,
MANDALAYBy the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
TROOPIN'Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea,
THE WIDOW'S PARTY“Where have you been this while away?”
FORD O' KABUL RIVERKabul town's by Kabul river,
GENTLEMEN-RANKERSTo the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,
ROUTE MARCHIN'We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains,
SHILLIN' A DAYMy name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly,
OTHER VERSES
THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WESTOh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
THE LAST SUTTEEUdai Chand lay sick to death,
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCYAbdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told,
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JESTWhen spring-time flushes the desert grass,
WITH SCINDIA TO DELHIThe wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,
THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONEThis is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,
THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEFO woe is me for the merry life,
THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS. . . At the close of a winter day,
THE BALLAD OF THE “CLAMPHERDOWN”It was our war-shipClampherdown,
THE BALLAD OF THE “BOLIVAR”Seven men from all the world back to Docks again,
THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEBEr-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai,
THE EXPLANATIONLove and Death once ceased their strife,
THE GIFT OF THE SEAThe dead child lay in the shroud,
EVARRA AND HIS GODSRead here: This is the story of Evarra — man —,
THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPSWhen the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
THE LEGEND OF EVILThis is the sorrowful story,
THE ENGLISH FLAGWinds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro,
“CLEARED”Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt,
AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPTNow this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed,
TOMLINSONNow Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,
L'ENVOI TO “LIFE'S HANDICAP”My new-cut ashlar takes the light,
L'ENVOIThere's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
[In India, the swastika is an ancient symbol of good fortune. Kipling frequently used the swastika in this context.]
THE SEVEN SEAS1891-1896
DEDICATIONThe Cities are full of pride,
THE SEVEN SEAS
A SONG OF THE ENGLISHFair is our lot — O goodly is our heritage!
The Coastwise LightsOur brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees,
The Song of the DeadHear now the Song of the Dead — in the North by the torn berg-edges,
The Deep-Sea CablesThe wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar —,
The Song of the SonsOne from the ends of the earth — gifts at an open door —,
The Song of the CitiesRoyal and Dower-royal, I the Queen,
England's AnswerTruly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban,
THE FIRST CHANTEYMine was the woman to me, darkling I found her,
THE LAST CHANTEYThus said The Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim,
THE MERCHANTMENKing Solomon drew merchantmen,
M'ANDREW'S HYMNLord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
THE MIRACLESI sent a message to my dear,
THE NATIVE-BORNWe've drunk to the Queen — God bless her!
THE KING“Farewell, Romance!” the Cave-men said,
THE RHYME OF THE THREE SEALERSAway by the lands of the Japanee,
THE DERELICTI was the staunchest of our fleet,
THE ANSWERA Rose, in tatters, on the garden path,
THE SONG OF THE BANJOYou couldn't pack a Broadwood half a mile,
THE LINER SHE'S A LADYThe Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds,
MULHOLLAND'S CONTRACTThe fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea,
ANCHOR SONGHeh! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again!FROM “MANY INVENTIONS”.
THE LOST LEGIONThere's a Legion that never was 'listed,
THE SEA-WIFEThere dwells a wife by the Northern Gate,
HYMN BEFORE ACTIONThe earth is full of anger,
TO THE TRUE ROMANCEThy face is far from this our war,FROM “MANY INVENTIONS”.
THE FLOWERSBuy my English posies!
THE LAST RHYME OF TRUE THOMASThe king has called for priest and cup,
IN THE NEOLITHIC AGEIn the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage,
THE STORY OF UNGOnce, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago,
THE THREE-DECKERFull thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail,
AN AMERICANIf the Led Striker call it a strike,
THE “MARY GLOSTER”I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim,
SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYALSpeakin' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all,
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
“BACK TO THE ARMY AGAIN”I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
“BIRDS OF PREY” MARCHMarch! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies,
“SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO”As I was spitting into the Ditch aboard o' theCrocodile,
SAPPERSWhen the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear,
THAT DAYIt got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope,
“THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN”The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time,
CHOLERA CAMPWe've got the cholerer in camp — it's worse than forty fights,
THE LADIESI've taken my fun where I've found it,
BILL 'AWKINS“'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?”
THE MOTHER-LODGEThere was Rundle, Station Master,
“FOLLOW ME 'OME”There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN''E was warned agin 'er,
THE JACKETThrough the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi,
THE 'EATHENThe 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone,
THE SHUT-EYE SENTRYSez the Junior Orderly Sergeant,
“MARY, PITY WOMEN!”You call yourself a man,
FOR TO ADMIREThe Injian Ocean sets an' smiles,
L'ENVOIWhen Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
1889-1891
TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled —Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled —Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the Elder Days,It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father's praise.'Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where Azrael's outposts are,Or buffet a path through the Pit's red wrath when God goes out to war,Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red-maned star.They take their mirth in the joy of the Earth —they dare not grieve for her pain —They know of toil and the end of toil, they know God's law is plain,So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that Sin is vain.And ofttimes cometh our wise Lord God, master of every trade,And tells them tales of His daily toil, of Edens newly made;And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen unafraid.To these who are cleansed of base Desire, Sorrow and Lust and Shame —Gods for they knew the hearts of men, men for they stooped to Fame,Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother's spirit came.He scarce had need to doff his pride or slough the dross of Earth —E'en as he trod that day to God so walked he from his birth,In simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth.So cup to lip in fellowship they gave him welcome highAnd made him place at the banquet board — the Strong Men ranged thereby,Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die.Beyond the loom of the last lone star, through open darkness hurled,Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star-swarm swirled,Sits he with those that praise our God for that they served His world.
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 explainBoth your pleasure and your pain,And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!O there'll surely come a dayWhen 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'.
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 sleepIs cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bitIs 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 faceThe 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!
(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'stoyou, 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 signedWe'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 Zuluimpidished us up in style:But all we ever got from such as theyWas 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'stoyou, 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 shownIn usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bushWith 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rushWill last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.So 'ere'stoyou, 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 damnFor a Regiment o' British Infantree!So 'ere'stoyou, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;An' 'ere'stoyou, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air —You big black boundin' beggar — for you broke a British square!
“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' painYou'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.
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 forgetsIt's only the pick of the Armythat 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 plainsThe 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-ropesto 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!