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!