Gunga Din — Rudyard Kipling

You may talk o’ gin and beerWhen you’re quartered safe out ’ere,An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;But when it comes to slaughterYou 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 timeA-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen,Of all them blackfaced crewThe finest man I knewWas our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.He was ‘Din! Din! Din!You limping lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!Hi! slippery hitherao!Water, get it! Panee lao!You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.’

The uniform ’e woreWas nothin’ much before,An’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,For a piece o’ twisty ragAn’ a goatskin water-bagWas all the field-equipment ’e could find.When the sweatin’ troop-train layIn 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 itOr I’ll marrow you this minuteIf you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!

’E would dot an’ carry oneTill 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, insideWhen ’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 sha’n’t forgit the night;When I dropped be’ind the fightWith a bullet where my belt-plate should ’a’ been.I was chokin’ mad with thirst,An’ the man that spied me firstWas 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 awayTo 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 onAt 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 living Gawd that made you,You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!