Rudyard Kipling - SnarleyowRudyard Kipling - Snarleyow
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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!
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