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Gunga Din
BY RUDYARD KIPLING

You may talk o gin and beer  
When youre quartered safe out ere,  
An youre sent to penny-fights an Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter  
You will do your work on water,
An youll lick the bloomin boots of im thats got it.  
Now in Injias 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! Slippy 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 beind,
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 couldnt serve us all.

It was Din! Din! Din!
You eathen, where the mischief ave you been?  
You put some juldee in it
Or Ill marrow you this minute
If you dont fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!

E would dot an carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An e didnt seem to know the use o fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin nut,
Ed 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-ranks shout,  
Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!

I shant forgit the night
When I dropped beind 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 Ive drunk,
Im gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was 'Din! Din! Din!
Eres a beggar with a bullet through is spleen;  
E's chawin up the ground,
An es kickin all around:
For Gawds 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 Ill meet im later on
At the place where e is gone
Where its always double drill and no canteen.  
Ell be squattin on the coals
Givin drink to poor damned souls,
An Ill get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!  

Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!  
Though Ive belted you and flayed you,  
By the livin Gawd that made you,
Youre a better man than I am, Gunga Din!


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