Barrack-Room Ballads
First Series (1892)
Dedication
To T. A.
- I have made for you a song,
- And it may be right or wrong,
- But only you can tell me if it's true;
- I have tried for to explain
- Both your pleasure and your pain,
- And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!
-
- O there'll surely come a day
- When they'll give you all your pay,
- And treat you as a Christian ought to do;
- So, until that day comes round,
- Heaven keep you safe and sound,
- And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!
R. K.
Danny Deever
- "What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- "What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
- The regiment's in 'ollow square—they're hangin' him to-day;
- They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
- An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
-
- "What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- "What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round,
- They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
- An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound—
- O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'!
-
- "'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade.
- "'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- "I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times", said Files-on-Parade.
- "'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place,
- For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'—you must look 'im in the face;
- Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace,
- While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
-
- "What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- "What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade.
- "It's Danny's soul that's passin' now", the Colour-Sergeant said.
- For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play,
- The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away;
- Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day,
- After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
Tommy
- I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
- The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
- The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
- I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
- O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
- But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
- The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
- O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
-
- I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
- They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
- They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
- But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
- For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
- But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
- The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
- O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
-
- Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
- Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
- An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
- Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
- Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
- But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
- The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
- O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
-
- We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
- But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
- An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
- Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
- While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
- But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
- There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
- O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
-
- You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
- We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
- Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
- The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
- For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
- But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
- An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
- An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool—you bet that Tommy sees!
Fuzzy-Wuzzy
(Soudan Expeditionary Force)
- We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
- An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
- The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
- But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
- We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
- 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
- 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
- An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
- So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
- You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
- We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
- We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
-
- We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills,
- The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
- The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
- An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
- But all we ever got from such as they
- Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
- We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
- But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
- Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
- Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
- We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
- But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.
-
- 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
- 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
- So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
- In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
- When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
- With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
- An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
- Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
- So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
- If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
- But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
- For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!
-
- 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
- An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
- 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
- An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
- 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb!
- 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
- 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
- For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
- So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
- You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
- An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air—
- You big black boundin' beggar—for you broke a British square!
Soldier, Soldier
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- Why don't you march with my true love?"
- "We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip,
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
- New love! True love!
- Best go look for a new love,
- The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
- An' you'd best go look for a new love.
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- What did you see o' my true love?"
- "I seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green,
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- Did ye see no more o' my true love?"
- "I seed 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to fly—
- But you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- Did aught take 'arm to my true love?"
- "I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay so white—
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- I'll up an' tend to my true love!"
- "'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 'is 'ead,
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- I'll down an' die with my true love!"
- "The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im—
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- Do you bring no sign from my true love?"
- "I bring a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to wear,
- An' you'd best go look for a new love."
-
- "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
- O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!"
- "An' I tell you truth again—when you've lost the feel o' pain
- You'd best take me for your true love."
- True love! New love!
- Best take 'im for a new love,
- The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes,
- An' you'd best take 'im for your true love.
Screw-Guns
- Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
- I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule,
- With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets
- It's only the pick of the Army
- that handles the dear little pets—'Tss! 'Tss!
- For you all love the screw-guns—the screw-guns they all love you!
- So when we call round 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 can go where you please, you can skid up the trees,
- but you don't get away from the guns!
-
- They sends us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't:
- We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint:
- We've chivied the Naga an' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits,
- For we fancies ourselves at two thousand,
- we guns that are built in two bits—'Tss! 'Tss!
- For you all love the screw-guns...
-
- If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave;
- If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im an' rattles 'im into 'is grave.
- You've got to stand up to our business an' spring without snatchin' or fuss.
- D'you say that you sweat with the field-guns?
- By God, you must lather with us—'Tss! 'Tss!
- For you all love the screw-guns...
-
- The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's a-moanin' below,
- We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub,
- we're out on the rocks an' the snow,
- An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what carries away to the plains
- The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules—
- the jinglety-jink o' the chains—'Tss! 'Tss!
- For you all love the screw-guns...
-
- There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin',
- an' a wheel on the edge o' the Pit,
- An' a drop into nothin' beneath you as straight as a beggar can spit:
- With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves,
- an' the sun off the snow in your face,
- An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes
- to hold the old gun in 'er place—'Tss! 'Tss!
- For you all love the screw-guns...
-
- Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
- 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
- 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
- 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!
- 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!"
- 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
- 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 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,
- '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
(Northern India Transport Train)
- Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire?
- It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire;
- But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road
- For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load.
- O the oont, O the oont, O the commissariat oont!
- With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket full o' snakes;
- We packs 'im like an idol, an' you ought to 'ear 'im grunt,
- An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed girth-rope breaks.
-
- Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when night is drorin' in,
- An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is skin?
- It ain't the chanst o' being rushed by Paythans from the 'ills,
- It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is bloomin' frills!
- O the oont, O the oont, O the hairy scary oont!
- A-trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got the night alarm!
- We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 'eads 'im off in front,
- An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e chaws our bloomin' arm.
-
- The 'orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but a fool,
- The elephant's a gentleman, the battery-mule's a mule;
- But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said an' done,
- 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in one.
- O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont!
- The lumpy-'umpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' where 'e lies,
- 'E's blocked the whole division from the rear-guard to the front,
- An' when we get him up again—the beggar goes an' dies!
-
- 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight—'e smells most awful vile;
- 'E'll lose 'isself for ever if you let 'im stray a mile;
- 'E's game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 'ole night through,
- An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 'e splits 'isself in two.
- O the oont, O the oont, O the floppin', droppin' oont!
- When 'is long legs give from under an' 'is meltin' eye is dim,
- The tribes is up be'ind us, and the tribes is out in front—
- It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites an' crows for 'im.
-
- So when the cruel march is done, an' when the roads is blind,
- An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the shots be'ind,
- Ho! then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes is past:
- 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, and gets revenge at last.
- O the oont, O the oont, O the floatin', bloatin' oont!
- The late lamented camel in the water-cut 'e lies;
- We keeps a mile be'ind 'im an' we keeps a mile in front,
- But 'e gets into the drinkin'-casks, and then o' course we dies.
Loot
- If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
- If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
- If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,
- You will understand this little song o' mine.
- But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred,
- For the same with English morals does not suit.
- (Cornet: Toot! toot!)
- W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber
- With the—
- (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot!
- Ow the loot!
- Bloomin' loot!
- That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot!
- It's the same with dogs an' men,
- If you'd make 'em come again
- Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot!
- (ff) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
-
- If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life,
- You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell;
- An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife
- That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well.
- Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under
- Why lootin' should be entered as a crime;
- So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear
- 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.
- (Chorus) With the loot, ...
-
- Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god
- That 'is eyes is very often precious stones;
- An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod
- 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns.
- When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor
- Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot
- (Cornet: Toot! toot!)—
- When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink,
- An' you're sure to touch the—
- (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
- Ow the loot!...
-
- When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs—
- It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find—
- For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs,
- An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind.
- When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt
- As if there weren't enough to dust a flute
- (Cornet: Toot! toot!)—
- Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look,
- For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot.
- (Chorus) Ow the loot!...
-
- You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too,
- If you only take the proper way to go;
- I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew—
- An' don't you never say I told you so.
- An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry,
- An' I see another tunin' up to toot
- (Cornet: Toot! toot!)—
- So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es,
- An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot!
- (Chorus) Yes, the loot,
- Bloomin' loot!
- In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot!
- It's the same with dogs an' men,
- If you'd make 'em come again
- (fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
- Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
'Snarleyow'
- This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps
- Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war;
- An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now,
- But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarleyow.
- Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
- Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears;
- But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
- Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
-
- They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore,
- To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps,
- They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow,
- When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow.
-
- They cut 'im loose an' left 'im—'e was almost tore in two—
- But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse should do;
- 'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals:
- "Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow—'is head's between 'is 'eels!"
-
- The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round,
- An' there ain't no "Stop, conductor!" when a batt'ry's changin' ground;
- Sez 'e: "I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels,
- But I couldn't pull up, not for you—your 'ead between your 'eels!"
-
- 'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell
- A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell;
- An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the limber wheels,
- There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels.
-
- Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain,
- "For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain."
- They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best,
- So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest.
-
- The Driver 'e give nothin' 'cept a little coughin' grunt,
- But 'e swung 'is 'orses 'andsome when it came to "Action Front!"
- An' if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head
- 'Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread.
-
- The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen:
- You 'avn't got no families when servin' of the Queen—
- You 'avn't got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons—
- If you want to win your battles take an' work your bloomin' guns!
- Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
- Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears;
- But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
- Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
The Widow at Windsor
- 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
- With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
- She 'as ships on the foam—she 'as millions at 'ome,
- An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
- (Ow, poor beggars in red!)
- There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
- There's 'er mark on the medical stores—
- An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
- That takes us to various wars.
- (Poor beggars!—barbarious wars!)
- Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
- An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
- The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
- O' Missis Victorier's sons.
- (Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)
- Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
- For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
- We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
- An' we've salted it down with our bones.
- (Poor beggars!—it's blue with our bones!)
- Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
- Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop,
- For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown
- When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"!
- (Poor beggars!—we're sent to say "Stop"!)
- Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow,
- From the Pole to the Tropics it runs—
- To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file,
- An' open in form with the guns.
- (Poor beggars!—it's always they guns!)
- We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor,
- It's safest to let 'er alone:
- For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land
- Wherever the bugles are blown.
- (Poor beggars!—an' don't we get blown!)
- Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin',
- An' flop round the earth till you're dead;
- But you won't get away from the tune that they play
- To the bloomin' old rag over'ead.
- (Poor beggars!—it's 'ot over'ead!)
- Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,
- Wherever, 'owever they roam.
- 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require
- A speedy return to their 'ome.
- (Poor beggars!—they'll never see 'ome!)
Belts
- There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,
- Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree;
- It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark:
- The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park.
- For it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!”
- An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!”
- O buckle an' tongue
- Was the song that we sung
- From Harrison's down to the Park!
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—the regiments was out,
- They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!”
- That drew them like a hornet's nest—we met them good an' large,
- The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge.
- Then it was:—“Belts...
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—an' I was in it too;
- We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru!
- I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm
- A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform.
- O it was:—“Belts...
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—they sent the Polis there,
- The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care;
- But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose,
- Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es.
- For it was:—“Belts...
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—it might ha' raged till now,
- But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how;
- 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run:
- An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun.
- While it was:—“Belts...
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—but that put down the shine,
- Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!”
- We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him,
- The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him.
- When it was:—“Belts...
-
- There was a row in Silver Street—it isn't over yet,
- For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get;
- 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie:
- There was a row in Silver Street—begod, I wonder why!
- But it was:—“Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!”
- An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!”
- O buckle an' tongue
- Was the song that we sung
- From Harrison's down to the Park!
The Young British Soldier
- When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
- 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
- An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
- Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
- Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
- Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
- Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
- So-oldier of the Queen!
-
- Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
- You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
- An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
- A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
- Fit, fit, fit for a soldier...
-
- First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
- For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts—
- Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts—
- An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
- Bad, bad, bad for the soldier...
-
- When the cholera comes—as it will past a doubt—
- Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
- For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
- An' it crumples the young British soldier.
- Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier...
-
- But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
- You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
- If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
- An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
- Fool, fool, fool of a soldier...
-
- If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
- Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
- Be handy and civil, and then you will find
- That it's beer for the young British soldier.
- Beer, beer, beer for the soldier...
-
- Now, if you must marry, take care she is old—
- A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
- For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
- Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
- 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier...
-
- If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
- To shoot when you catch 'em—you'll swing, on my oath!—
- Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
- An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
- Curse, curse, curse of a soldier...
-
- When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
- Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
- Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
- And march to your front like a soldier.
- Front, front, front like a soldier...
-
- When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
- Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
- She's human as you are—you treat her as sich,
- An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
- Fight, fight, fight for the soldier...
-
- When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
- The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
- Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
- For noise never startles the soldier.
- Start-, start-, startles the soldier...
-
- If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
- Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
- So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
- And wait for supports like a soldier.
- Wait, wait, wait like a soldier...
-
- When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
- And the women come out to cut up what remains,
- Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
- An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
- Go, go, go like a soldier,
- Go, go, go like a soldier,
- Go, go, go like a soldier,
- So-oldier of the Queen!
Mandalay
- By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
- There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
- For the wind is in the palm-trees, and 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 chunkin' 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 petticoat 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 first 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...
-
- When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
- She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
- With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
- We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
- Elephints a-pilin' teak
- In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
- Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
- On the road to Mandalay...
-
- But that's all shove be'ind me—long ago an' fur away,
- An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
- An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
- "If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
- No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
- But them spicy garlic smells,
- An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
- On the road to Mandalay...
-
- I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
- An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
- Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
- An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
- Beefy face an' grubby 'and—
- Law! wot do they understand?
- I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
- On the road to Mandalay...
-
- Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
- Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
- For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be—
- By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
- On the road to Mandalay,
- Where the old Flotilla lay,
- With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
- On the road to Mandalay,
- Where the flyin'-fishes play,
- An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
Troopin'
(Our Army in the East)
- Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea:
- 'Ere's September come again—the six-year men are free.
- O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away
- To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day.
- We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,
- Our ship is at the shore,
- An' you must pack your 'aversack,
- For we won't come back no more.
- Ho, don't you grieve for me,
- My lovely Mary-Ann,
- For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
- As a time-expired man.
-
- The Malabar's in 'arbour with the Jumner at 'er tail,
- An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail.
- Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay,
- But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day.
-
- They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain,
- All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain;
- They'll kill us of pneumonia—for that's their little way—
- But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day!
-
- Troopin', troopin', winter's round again!
- See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign;
- Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay—
- What's the last from Lunnon, lads? We're goin' there to-day.
-
- Troopin', troopin', give another cheer—
- 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer.
- The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay,
- Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle—Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day.
- We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,
- Our ship is at the shore,
- An' you must pack your 'aversack,
- For we won't come back no more.
- Ho, don't you grieve for me,
- My lovely Mary-Ann,
- For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
- As a time-expired man.
The Widow's Party
- “Where have you been this while away,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- They called us out of the barrack-yard
- To Gawd knows where from Gosport Hard,
- And you can't refuse when you get the card,
- And the Widow gives the party.
- (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!)
-
- “What did you get to eat and drink,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- Standing water as thick as ink,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- A bit o' beef that were three year stored,
- A bit o' mutton as tough as a board,
- And a fowl we killed with a sergeant's sword,
- When the Widow give the party.
-
- “What did you do for knives and forks,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- We carries 'em with us wherever we walks,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- And some was sliced and some was halved,
- And some was crimped and some was carved,
- And some was gutted and some was starved,
- When the Widow give the party.
-
- “What ha' you done with half your mess,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- They couldn't do more and they wouldn't do less,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- They ate their whack and they drank their fill,
- And I think the rations has made them ill,
- For half my comp'ny's lying still
- Where the Widow give the party.
-
- “How did you get away—away,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- On the broad o' my back at the end o' the day,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- I comed away like a bleedin' toff,
- For I got four niggers to carry me off,
- As I lay in the bight of a canvas trough,
- When the Widow give the party.
-
- “What was the end of all the show,
- Johnnie, Johnnie?”
- Ask my Colonel, for I don't know,
- Johnnie, my Johnnie, aha!
- We broke a King and we built a road—
- A court-house stands where the reg'ment goed.
- And the river's clean where the raw blood flowed
- When the Widow give the party.
- (Bugle: Ta—rara—ra-ra-rara!)
Ford o' Kabul River
- Kabul town's by Kabul river—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- There I lef' my mate for ever,
- Wet an' drippin' by the ford.
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin'
- 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.
-
- Kabul town's a blasted place—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- 'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face
- Wet an' drippin' by the ford!
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you
- 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.
-
- Kabul town is sun and dust—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- I'd ha' sooner drownded fust
- 'Stead of 'im beside the ford.
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin',
- 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.
-
- Kabul town was ours to take—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- I'd ha' left it for 'is sake—
- 'Im that left me by the ford.
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there,
- 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark?
-
- Kabul town'll go to hell—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- 'Fore I see him 'live an' well—
- 'Im the best beside the ford.
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under,
- By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.
-
- Turn your 'orse from Kabul town—
- Blow the bugle, draw the sword—
- 'Im an' 'arf my troop is down,
- Down an' drownded by the ford.
- Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
- Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
- There's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o' callin'
- 'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.
Gentlemen-Rankers
- To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,
- To my brethren in their sorrow overseas,
- Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed,
- And a trooper of the Empress, if you please.
- Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses,
- And faith he went the pace and went it blind,
- And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin,
- But to-day the Sergeant's something less than kind.
- We're poor little lambs who've lost our way,
- Baa! Baa! Baa!
- We're little black sheep who've gone astray,
- Baa—aa—aa!
- Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
- Damned from here to Eternity,
- God ha' mercy on such as we,
- Baa! Yah! Bah!
-
- Oh, it's sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops,
- And it's sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell,
- To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops
- And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well.
- Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be "Rider" to your troop,
- And branded with a blasted worsted spur,
- When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly
- Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you "Sir".
-
- If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep,
- And all we know most distant and most dear,
- Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep,
- Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?
- When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters
- And the horror of our fall is written plain,
- Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling,
- Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain?
-
- We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth,
- We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung,
- And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.
- God help us, for we knew the worst too young!
- Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence,
- Our pride it is to know no spur of pride,
- And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us
- And we die, and none can tell Them where we died.
- We're poor little lambs who've lost our way,
- Baa! Baa! Baa!
- We're little black sheep who've gone astray,
- Baa—aa—aa!
- Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
- Damned from here to Eternity,
- God ha' mercy on such as we,
- Baa! Yah! Bah!
Route Marchin'
- We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains,
- A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains;
- Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,
- There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road;
- With its best foot first
- And the road a-sliding past,
- An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last;
- While the Big Drum says,
- With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!"—
- “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?”
-
- Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see,
- There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree,
- An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind,
- An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind.
- While it's best foot first, ...
-
- At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come,
- Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome.
- But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts,
- While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts.
- An' it's best foot first, ...
-
- Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings,
- An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things,
- An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at,
- An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat.
- An' it's best foot first, ...
-
- It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease,
- To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees,
- For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards,
- So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards.
- Till it's best foot first, ...
-
- So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore,
- There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore;
- An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell,
- You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well.
- For it's best foot first, ...
-
- We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand,
- Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band;
- Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,
- There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road;
- With its best foot first
- And the road a-sliding past,
- An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last;
- While the Big Drum says,
- With 'is "rowdy-dowdy-dow!"—
- “Kiko kissywarsti don't you hamsher argy jow?”
Shillin' a Day
- My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly
- From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore,
- Hong-Kong and Peshawur,
- Lucknow and Etawah,
- And fifty-five more all endin' in "pore".
- Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness,
- Of sorrow and sickness I've known on my way,
- But I'm old and I'm nervis,
- I'm cast from the Service,
- And all I deserve is a shillin' a day.
- (Chorus) Shillin' a day,
- Bloomin' good pay—
- Lucky to touch it, a shillin' a day!
-
- Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I
- Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side,
- When we rode Hell-for-leather
- Both squadrons together,
- That didn't care whether we lived or we died.
- But it's no use despairin', my wife must go charin'
- An' me commissairin' the pay-bills to better,
- So if me you be'old
- In the wet and the cold,
- By the Grand Metropold, won't you give me a letter?
- (Full chorus) Give 'im a letter—
- 'Can't do no better,
- Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an'—runs with a letter!
- Think what 'e's been,
- Think what 'e's seen,
- Think of his pension an'——
-
- Gawd save the Queen
- --oOo-- -