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BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS RUDYARD KIPLING First Series (1892)
Dedication: To T. A.
1 Danny Deever
2 Tommy
3 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy'
4 Soldier Soldier
5 Screw-Guns
6 Cells
7 Gunga Din
8 Oonts
9 Loot
10 'Snarleyow'
11 The Widow at Windsor
12 Belts
13 The Young British Soldier
14 Mandalay
15 Troopin'
16 The Widow's Party
17 Ford o' Kabul
18 Gentlemen-Rankers
19 Route Marchin'
20 Shillin' a Day
Second Series (1896)
21 'Bobs'
22 'Back to the Army Again'
23 'Birds of Prey' March
24 'Soldier an; Sailor Too'
25 Sappers
26 That Day
27 'The Men that fought at Minden
28 Cholera Camp
29 The Ladies
30 Bill 'Awkins
31 The Mother Lodge
32 'Follow Me 'Ome
33 The Sergeant's Weddin'
34 The Jacket
35 The 'Eathen
36 The Shut-Eye Sentry
37 'Mary Pity Women!'
38 For to Admire
Dedication
To T. A.
I have made for you a song
And it may be right or wrong
But only you can tell me if it's true;
I have tried for to explain
Both your pleasure and your pain
And Thomas here's my best respects to you!
O there'll surely come a day
When they'll give you all your pay
And treat you as a Christian ought to do;
So until that day comes round
Heaven keep you safe and sound
And Thomas here's my best respects to you!
R. K.
Danny Deever
"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
"To turn you out to turn you out" the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes you look so white so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
"I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch" the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they're hangin' Danny Deever you can hear the Dead March play
The regiment's in 'ollow square -- they're hangin' him to-day;
They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
"What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's bitter cold it's bitter cold" the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade.
"A touch o' sun a touch o' sun" the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever they are marchin' of 'im round
They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound --
O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'!
"'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine" said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night" the Colour-Sergeant said.
"I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times" said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone" the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever you must mark 'im to 'is place
For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' -- you must look 'im in the face;
Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace
While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
"What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life" the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny's soul that's passin' now" the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they're done with Danny Deever you can 'ear the quickstep play
The regiment's in column an' they're marchin' us away;
Ho! the young recruits are shakin' an' they'll want their beer to-day
After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
Tommy
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer
The publican 'e up an' sez "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Tommy go away";
But it's "Thank you Mister Atkins" when the band begins to play
The band begins to play my boys the band begins to play
O it's "Thank you Mister Atkins" when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be
They gave a drunk civilian room but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls
But when it comes to fightin' Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Tommy wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide
The troopship's on the tide my boys the troopship's on the tide
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Tommy 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll
The drums begin to roll my boys the drums begin to roll
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes nor we aren't no blackguards too
But single men in barricks most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints
Why single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Tommy fall be'ind"
But it's "Please to walk in front sir" when there's trouble in the wind
There's trouble in the wind my boys there's trouble in the wind
O it's "Please to walk in front sir" when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us an' schools an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Chuck him out the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this an' Tommy that an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!
Fuzzy-Wuzzy
(Soudan Expeditionary Force)
We've fought with many men acrost the seas
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's to you Fuzzy-Wuzzy at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
We gives you your certificate an' if you want it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills
An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own the papers say
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's to you Fuzzy-Wuzzy an' the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin' you Fuzzy-Wuz you broke the square.
'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own
'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear
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