Gunga Din
By Rudyard Kipling
Gunga Din
By Rudyard Kipling
You may talk o' gin and beer
when you're quartered safe out 'ere
an' you're sent to penny-fights in Aldershot it
But when it comes to slaughter
you'll 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 black-faced 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 hitheroa! Water, get it! Panee loa!
You squidgy-nosed old idol Gunga Din!"
The uniform 'e wore was nothing much before
an' rather less than 'arf o' that behind
For o' piece o' twisty-rag an' a goat skin water bag
was all the field equipment 'e could find
An' when the sweatin' troop train lay in a sidin' through the day
where the 'eat would make you're bloomin' eyeballs crawl
We shouted, "Harry By!" 'till out throats were bricky-dry
Then we whopped '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 long day was done
an' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear
If we charged, or broke, or cut, you could bet you're bloomin' nut
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces, right flank, rear
With 'is mussick on 'is back, 'e would skip with our attack
an 'e'd watch us till the bugles made Retire
An for all 'is dirty hide
'E was white - clear white - inside
when 'e went to tend the wounded under fire
With the bullets kickin' dust spots on the green
An' when the cartridges ran out
you could hear the front files shout,
"Hi! Ammunitions mules and Gunga Din!"
I shan't forget the night when I dropped behind the fight
with a bullet were my belt plate should o' been
I was chokin' mad with thirst an' the man who spied me first
was our good old, grinnin', gruntin', Gunga Din
'E lifted up my head an' plugged me where I bled
an guv me 'arf o' pint o' water green
It was crawlin' and it stunk
But of all the drinks I've drunk
I'm gratefullest to that one from Gunga Din
It was, "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through his spleen!
'E's chawin' up the ground
an' 'e's kickin' all around
For Gawds sake get 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 and just before 'e died,
"I hope you like your drink," says Gunga Din
So, I'll meet 'im later on in the place where 'e has gone
where it's always double-drill an' no canteen
'E'll be squattin' on the coals givin' drink to poor damned souls
an' I'll catch a swig in Hell from Gunga Din...
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
'Thought I've belted you and flayed you
By the Livin' Gawd that made you
You're a better man than I am,
Gunga Din
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Credits:
Photos and illustrations of the Mutiny of 1857 (India) courtesy of: http://www.geocities.com/Broadway/Alley/5443/indmut
Bagpipe music of "Amazing Grace," by: 48th Scot Dragoon Guards
Vocalization by: JWS as the Old Scottish Soldier. (MP3
Copyright© 2001 [JWS] All Rights Reserved)
Page Copyright© 2001 [JWS] All Rights Reserved
