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Rudyard Kipling - Gunga Din
Work rating: Medium

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~!                   [Bring water swiftly.]
  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!"           [Mr. Atkins`s equivalent for "O brother."]
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                               [Be quick.]
      Or I`ll ~marrow~ you this minute                           [Hit you.]
  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,                               [Water-skin.]
`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!
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