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Rudyard Kipling - Troopin`
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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.
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