GUNGA DIN. You may talk o' gin an' beer When you 're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you 're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; 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, The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was "Din! Din! Din ! You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! 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 twisty piece o' rag The bhisti, or water-carrier, attached to regiments in India, is often one of the most devoted of the Queen's servants. He is also appreciated by the men.-AUTHOR'S NOTE. Slippy hitherao: Come here quick! Panee lao: Bring water swiftly. An' a goatskin water-bag Was all the field equipment 'e could find. In a sidin' through the day, Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, We shouted "Harry By !." Til our throats were bricky-dry, Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e could n'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 did n'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 ! Harry By: Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O Brother!" -AUTHOR'S NOTE. Gunga Din It was "Din! Din! Din!" With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. When the cartridges ran out, You could 'ear the front-files shout: "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!" I sha'n'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' 'e plugged me where I bled, An' 'e gave me 'arf-a-pint a' water It was crawlin' and it stunk, But of all the drinks I've drunk, green: 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, Dooli: Litter; stretcher. An' just before 'e died : "I 'ope you like your drink," sez Gunga Din. So I'll meet 'im later on In 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 pore damned souls, An' I'll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din ! You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! By the livin' Gawd that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din! MANDALAY By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm-trees, an' 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 chuckin' 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 petticut 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 fust 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 |