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Rudyard Kipling - Chant-Pagan
Work rating: Medium

Me that `ave been what I`ve been —
  Me that `ave gone where I`ve gone —
Me that `ave seen what I`ve seen —
  `Ow can I ever take on
With awful old England again,
An` `ouses both sides of the street,
And `edges two sides of the lane,
And the parson an` gentry between,
An` touchin` my `at when we meet —
  Me that `ave been what I`ve been?

Me that `ave watched `arf a world
`Eave up all shiny with dew,
Kopje on kop to the sun,
An` as soon as the mist let `em through
Our `elios winkin` like fun —
Three sides of a ninety-mile square,
Over valleys as big as a shire —
"Are ye there? Are ye there? Are ye there?"
An` then the blind drum of our fire . . .
An` I`m rollin` `is lawns for the Squire,
Me!

Me that `ave rode through the dark
Forty mile, often, on end,
Along the Ma`ollisberg Range,
With only the stars for my mark
An` only the night for my friend,
An` things runnin` off as you pass,
An` things jumpin` up in the grass,
An` the silence, the shine an` the size
Of the `igh, unexpressible skies —
I am takin` some letters almost
As much as a mile to the post,
An` "mind you come back with the change!"
Me!

Me that saw Barberton took
When we dropped through the clouds on their `ead,
An` they `ove the guns over and fled —
Me that was through Di`mond I`ll,
An` Pieters an` Springs an` Belfast —
From Dundee to Vereeniging all —
Me that stuck out to the last
(An` five bloomin` bars on my chest) —
I am doin` my Sunday-school best,
By the `elp of the Squire an` `is wife
(Not to mention the `ousemaid an` cook),
To come in an` `ands up an` be still,
An` honestly work for my bread,
My livin` in that state of life
To which it shall please God to call
Me!

Me that `ave followed my trade
In the place where the Lightnin`s are made;
"Twixt the Rains and the Sun and the Moon —
Me that lay down an` got up
Three years with the sky for my roof —
That `ave ridden my `unger an` thirst
Six thousand raw mile on the hoof,
With the Vaal and the Orange for cup,
An` the Brandwater Basin for dish, —
Oh! it`s `ard to be`ave as they wish
(Too `ard, an` a little too soon),
I`ll `ave to think over it first —
Me!

I will arise an` get `ence —
I will trek South and make sure
If it`s only my fancy or not
That the sunshine of England is pale,
And the breezes of England are stale,
An` there`s something` gone small with the lot.
For I know of a sun an` a wind,
An` some plains and a mountain be`ind,
An` some graves by a barb-wire fence,
An` a Dutchman I`ve fought `oo might give
Me a job where I ever inclined
To look in an` offsaddle an` live
Where there`s neither a road nor a tree —
But only my Maker an` me,
An I think it will kill me or cure,
So I think I will go there an` see.
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