(Soudan Expeditionary Force)<\/p>\n
We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas,
\nAn’ some of ’em was brave an’ some was not:
\nThe Paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese;
\nBut the Fuzzy was the finest o’ the lot.
\nWe never got a ha’porth’s change of ‘im:
\n‘E squatted in the scrub an’ ‘ocked our ‘orses,
\n‘E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
\nAn’ ‘e played the cat an’ banjo with our forces.
\nSo ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ‘ome in the Soudan;
\nYou’re a pore benighted ‘eathen but a first-class fightin’ man;
\nWe gives you your certificate, an’ if you want it signed
\nWe’ll come an’ ‘ave a romp with you whenever you’re inclined.<\/p>\n
We took our chanst among the Khyber ‘ills,
\nThe Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
\nThe Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
\nAn’ a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
\nBut all we ever got from such as they
\nWas pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
\nWe ‘eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say,
\nBut man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ‘oller.
\nThen ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid;
\nOur orders was to break you, an’ of course we went an’ did.
\nWe sloshed you with Martinis, an’ it wasn’t ‘ardly fair;
\nBut for all the odds agin’ you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.<\/p>\n
‘E ‘asn’t got no papers of ‘is own,
\n‘E ‘asn’t got no medals nor rewards,
\nSo we must certify the skill ‘e’s shown
\nIn usin’ of ‘is long two-‘anded swords:
\nWhen ‘e’s ‘oppin’ in an’ out among the bush
\nWith ‘is coffin-‘eaded shield an’ shovel-spear,
\nAn ‘appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
\nWill last an ‘ealthy Tommy for a year.
\nSo ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ your friends which are no more,
\nIf we ‘adn’t lost some messmates we would ‘elp you to deplore.
\nBut give an’ take’s the gospel, an’ we’ll call the bargain fair,
\nFor if you ‘ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!<\/p>\n
‘E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
\nAn’, before we know, ‘e’s ‘ackin’ at our ‘ead;
\n‘E’s all ‘ot sand an’ ginger when alive,
\nAn’ ‘e’s generally shammin’ when ‘e’s dead.
\n‘E’s a daisy, ‘e’s a ducky, ‘e’s a lamb!
\n‘E’s a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
\n‘E’s the on’y thing that doesn’t give a damn
\nFor a Regiment o’ British Infantree!
\nSo ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ‘ome in the Soudan;
\nYou’re a pore benighted ‘eathen but a first-class fightin’ man;
\nAn’ ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your ‘ayrick ‘ead of ‘air —
\nYou big black boundin’ beggar — for you broke a British square!<\/p>\n
You may talk o’ gin and beer
\nWhen you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,
\nAn’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
\nBut when it comes to slaughter
\nYou will do your work on water,
\nAn’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.
\nNow in Injia’s sunny clime,
\nWhere I used to spend my time
\nA-servin’ of ‘Er Majesty the Queen,
\nOf all them blackfaced crew
\nThe finest man I knew
\nWas our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
\nHe was “Din! Din! Din!
\nYou limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!
\nHi! Slippy hitherao!
\nWater, get it! Panee lao! [Bring water swiftly.]
\nYou squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”<\/p>\n
The uniform ‘e wore
\nWas nothin’ much before,
\nAn’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind,
\nFor a piece o’ twisty rag
\nAn’ a goatskin water-bag
\nWas all the field-equipment ‘e could find.
\nWhen the sweatin’ troop-train lay
\nIn a sidin’ through the day,
\nWhere the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,
\nWe shouted “Harry By!” [Mr. Atkins’s equivalent for “O brother.”]
\nTill our throats were bricky-dry,
\nThen we wopped ‘im ’cause ‘e couldn’t serve us all.
\nIt was “Din! Din! Din!
\nYou ‘eathen, where the mischief ‘ave you been?
\nYou put some juldee in it [Be quick.]
\nOr I’ll marrow you this minute [Hit you.]
\nIf you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!”<\/p>\n
‘E would dot an’ carry one
\nTill the longest day was done;
\nAn’ ‘e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.
\nIf we charged or broke or cut,
\nYou could bet your bloomin’ nut,
\n‘E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.
\nWith ‘is mussick on ‘is back, [Water-skin.]
\n‘E would skip with our attack,
\nAn’ watch us till the bugles made “Retire”,
\nAn’ for all ‘is dirty ‘ide
\n‘E was white, clear white, inside
\nWhen ‘e went to tend the wounded under fire!
\nIt was “Din! Din! Din!”
\nWith the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.
\nWhen the cartridges ran out,
\nYou could hear the front-ranks shout,
\n“Hi! ammunition-mules an’ Gunga Din!”<\/p>\n
I shan’t forgit the night
\nWhen I dropped be’ind the fight
\nWith a bullet where my belt-plate should ‘a’ been.
\nI was chokin’ mad with thirst,
\nAn’ the man that spied me first
\nWas our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.
\n‘E lifted up my ‘ead,
\nAn’ he plugged me where I bled,
\nAn’ ‘e guv me ‘arf-a-pint o’ water-green:
\nIt was crawlin’ and it stunk,
\nBut of all the drinks I’ve drunk,
\nI’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
\nIt was “Din! Din! Din!
\n‘Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ‘is spleen;
\n‘E’s chawin’ up the ground,
\nAn’ ‘e’s kickin’ all around:
\nFor Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!”<\/p>\n
‘E carried me away
\nTo where a dooli lay,
\nAn’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.
\n‘E put me safe inside,
\nAn’ just before ‘e died,
\n“I ‘ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din.
\nSo I’ll meet ‘im later on
\nAt the place where ‘e is gone —
\nWhere it’s always double drill and no canteen.
\n‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
\nGivin’ drink to poor damned souls,
\nAn’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
\nYes, Din! Din! Din!
\nYou Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
\nThough I’ve belted you and flayed you,
\nBy the livin’ Gawd that made you,
\nYou’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!<\/p>\n
The United States and the Philippine Islands<\/p>\n
Take up the White man’s burden —
\nSend forth the best ye breed —
\nGo bind your sons to exile
\nTo serve your captives’ need;
\nTo wait in heavy harness
\nOn fluttered folk and wild —
\nYour new-caught, sullen peoples,
\nHalf devil and half child.<\/p>\n
Take up the White Man’s burden —
\nIn patience to abide,
\nTo veil the threat of terror
\nAnd check the show of pride;
\nBy open speech and simple,
\nAn hundred times mad plain.
\nTo seek another’s profit,
\nAnd work another’s gain.<\/p>\n
Take up the White Man’s burden —
\nThe savage wars of peace —
\nFill full the mouth of Famine
\nAnd bid the sickness cease;
\nAnd when your goal is nearest
\nThe end for others sought,
\nWatch Sloth and heathen Folly
\nBring all your hope to nought.<\/p>\n
Take up the White Man’s burden —
\nNo tawdry rule of kings,
\nBut toil of serf and sweeper —
\nThe tale of common things.
\nThe ports ye shall not enter,
\nThe roads ye shall not tread,
\nGo make them with your living,
\nAnd mark them with your dead!<\/p>\n
Take up the White man’s burden —
\nAnd reap his old reward:
\nThe blame of those ye better,
\nThe hate of those ye guard —
\nThe cry of hosts ye humour
\n(Ah, slowly!) toward the light: —
\n“Why brought ye us from bondage,
\n“Our loved Egyptian night?”<\/p>\n
Take up the White Man’s burden —
\nYe dare not stoop to less —
\nNor call too loud on freedom
\nTo cloak your weariness;
\nBy all ye cry or whisper,
\nBy all ye leave or do,
\nThe silent, sullen peoples
\nShall weigh your Gods and you.<\/p>\n
Take up the White Man’s burden —
\nHave done with childish days —
\nThe lightly proffered laurel,
\nThe easy, ungrudged praise.
\nComes now, to search your manhood
\nThrough all the thankless years,
\nCold-edged with dear-bought wisdom,
\nThe judgment of your peers!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":9,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":["rudyard-kipling"],"pb_section_license":"public-domain"},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[66],"license":[50],"class_list":["post-60","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless","contributor-rudyard-kipling","license-public-domain"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/60","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/60\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":97,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/60\/revisions\/97"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/60\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=60"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=60"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=60"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/victoriananthology\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=60"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}