Part 27 (2/2)
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier...
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier...
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old b.i.t.c.h; She's human as you are--you treat her as sich, An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier...
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the s.h.i.+ne, For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier...
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier...
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier, Go, go, go like a soldier, Go, go, go like a soldier, So-oldier of the Queen!
MANDALAY
By the old Moulmein PaG.o.da, lookin' lazy at the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: ”Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!”
Come you back to Mandalay, Where the old Flotilla lay: Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green, An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen, An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot, An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot: Bloomin' idol made o'mud-- Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd-- Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay...
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing ”Kulla-lo-lo!”
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak In the sludgy, squdgy creek, Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay...
But that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away, An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay; An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: ”If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.”
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else But them spicy garlic smells, An' the suns.h.i.+ne an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells; On the road to Mandalay...
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones, An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and-- Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
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