For all who enjoy these ditties may I humbly recommend the work of Robert
Service.  My own favourite being "The Haggis of Private McPhee".  Not that I
have read more than a fraction of his output.

Andy Shand 

-----Original Message-----
From: Steve Machin UK [mailto:stevemachinuk@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: 23 August 2002 20:09
To: Histonet Histonet Histonet
Subject: RE: Off topic - looking for Albert at Bronx Zoo


Hi Brad
I have a copy of " Barrack Room Ballads and other verses" by Rudyard
Kipling.  It is the sixty-second edition printed in 1930.
In addition to "Gunga Din" it has the great classic "Mandalay"

Best Wishes

Steve Machin UK


 --- "Mottishaw, Brad"  wrote: > The only reply
that I have is:
> 
> 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! 
> 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!"   
> 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  
> Or I'll marrow you this minute  
> 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,     
> '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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