| YOU may talk o’ gin an’ beer |
|
| When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere, |
|
| An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it; |
|
| But if it comes to slaughter |
|
| You will do your work on water, |
5 |
| 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 |
10 |
| The finest man I knew |
|
| Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. |
|
|
| It was “Din! Din! Din! |
|
| You limping lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din! |
|
| Hi! slippy hitherao! |
15 |
| Water, get it! Panee lao! |
|
| You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din!” |
|
|
| The uniform ‘e wore |
|
| Was nothin’ much before, |
|
| An’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind, |
20 |
| For a twisty piece o’ 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, |
25 |
| Where the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl, |
|
| We shouted “Harry By!” |
|
| Till our throats were bricky-dry, |
|
| Then we wopped ‘im ’cause ‘e couldn’t serve us all. |
|
|
| It was “Din! Din! Din! |
30 |
| 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 |
35 |
| 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. |
40 |
| 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 |
45 |
| 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 ‘ear the front-files shout: |
50 |
| “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, |
55 |
| 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 guv me ‘arf-a-pint o’ water—green; |
60 |
| It was crawlin’ an’ 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; |
65 |
| ‘E’s chawin’ up the ground an’ ‘e’s kickin’ all around: |
|
| For Gawd’s sake, git the water, Gunga Din!” |
|
Dreamquest 