With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, an' the sun off the snow in your face,

An' 'arfo' the men on the drag-ropes to hold the old gun in 'er place-'Tss! 'Tss!

For you all love the screw-guns

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin'-cool, I climbs in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule The monkey can say what our road was-the wild-goat ’e knows where we passed.

Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's! Out drag-ropes! With shrapnel! Hold fast-'Tss! 'Tss!

For you all love the screw-guns-the screw-guns they

all love you!

So when we take tea with a few

guns, o' know what to do-hoo! hoo!

course you will

Jest send in your Chief an' surrender-it's worse if

you fights or you runs:

You may hide in the caves, they'll be only your graves, but you can't get away from the guns!

CELLS

I'VE a head like a concertina, I've a tongue like a buttonstick,

I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little

sick,

But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard; I've made the

cinders fly,

And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal's eye.

With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,

O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C. B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard!”

Mad drunk and resisting the Guard—
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C. B.
For “drunk and resisting the Guard."

I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here.

'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt

But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt.

I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, And Lord knows where-and I don't care-my belt and my tunic goed.

They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to

wear,

But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there!

My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack

yard,

It ain't that I mind the Ord❜ly room-it's that that cuts so hard.

I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again!

With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,

Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C. B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard-
'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!

So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C. B.
For "drunk and resisting the Guard.”

GUNGA DIN

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! Slippy hitherao !

"Water, get it! Panee lao1

"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!"2

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.

'Bring water swiftly.

"O brother.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

"You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? "You put some juldee1 in it

"Or I'll marrow2 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 mussick3 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 sha'n'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,

'Be quick.

Hit you.

"Water-skin.

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!

OONTS

(Northern India Transport Train)

WOT makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire?

It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire;
But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road

For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat load.