Verses 1889-1896. Rudyard 1865-1936 Kipling

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СКАЧАТЬ 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

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      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

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      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! [Bring water swiftly.] 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!” [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for “O brother.”] 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 [Be quick.] Or I'll marrow you this minute [Hit you.] 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, [Water-skin.] '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

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