The Complete Poetical Works of Rudyard Kipling (570+ Poems in One Edition). Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

Чтение книги онлайн.

      The Ballad of Boh Da Thone

       Table of Contents

      This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,

       Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne,

       Who harried the district of Alalone:

       How he met with his fate and the V.P.P.

      At the hand of Harendra Mukerji,

       Senior Gomashta, G.B.T.

      Boh Da Thone was a warrior bold:

       His sword and his Snider were bossed with gold,

      And the Peacock Banner his henchmen bore

       Was stiff with bullion, but stiffer with gore.

      He shot at the strong and he slashed at the weak

       From the Salween scrub to the Chindwin teak:

      He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean,

       He filled old ladies with kerosene:

      While over the water the papers cried,

       "The patriot fights for his countryside!"

      But little they cared for the Native Press,

       The worn white soldiers in Khaki dress,

      Who tramped through the jungle and camped in the byre,

       Who died in the swamp and were tombed in the mire,

      Who gave up their lives, at the Queen's Command,

       For the Pride of their Race and the Peace of the Land.

      Now, first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone

       Was Captain O'Neil of the "Black Tyrone",

       And his was a Company, seventy strong,

       Who hustled that dissolute Chief along.

      There were lads from Galway and Louth and Meath

       Who went to their death with a joke in their teeth,

       And worshipped with fluency, fervour, and zeal

       The mud on the boot-heels of "Crook" O'Neil.

      But ever a blight on their labours lay,

       And ever their quarry would vanish away,

       Till the sun-dried boys of the Black Tyrone

       Took a brotherly interest in Boh Da Thone:

       And, sooth, if pursuit in possession ends,

       The Boh and his trackers were best of friends.

      The word of a scout—a march by night—

       A rush through the mist—a scattering fight—

       A volley from cover—a corpse in the clearing—

       The glimpse of a loin-cloth and heavy jade earring—

       The flare of a village—the tally of slain—

       And...the Boh was abroad "on the raid" again!

      They cursed their luck, as the Irish will,

       They gave him credit for cunning and skill,

       They buried their dead, they bolted their beef,

       And started anew on the track of the thief

       Till, in place of the "Kalends of Greece", men said,

       "When Crook and his darlings come back with the head."

      They had hunted the Boh from the hills to the plain—

       He doubled and broke for the hills again:

       СКАЧАТЬ