(Rudyard Kipling)


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9.03.1989
   




Barrack-Room Ballads. 21. Route Marchin


Were marchin on relief 
                              over Injias sunny plains,
A little front o Christmas-time 
                              an just beind the Rains;
Ho! get away you bullock-man, 
                              youve eard the bugle blowed,
Theres a regiment a-comin 
                              down the Grand Trunk Road;
    	         With its best foot first
    	         And the road a-sliding past,
    	An every bloomin campin-ground 
                              exactly like the last;
    	         While the Big Drum says,
    	         With is rowdy-dowdy-dow! 
    	Kiko kissywarsti 
                              dont you hamsher argy jow? *
 
Oh, theres them Injian temples 
                              to admire when you see,
Theres the peacock round the corner 
                              an the monkey up the tree,
An theres that rummy silver grass 
                              a-wavin in the wind,
An the old Grand Trunk a-trailin
                              like a rifle-sling beind.
    	         While its best foot first, . . .
 
At half-past fives Revelly, 
                              an our tents they down must come,
Like a lot of button mushrooms 
                              when you pick em up at ome.
But its over in a minute, 
                              an at six the column starts,
While the women and the kiddies 
                              sit an shiver in the carts.
    	         An its best foot first, . . .
 
Oh, then its open order, 
                              an we lights our pipes an sings,
An we talks about our rations 
                              an a lot of other things,
An we thinks o friends in England, 
                              an we wonders what theyre at,
An ow they would admire 
                              for to hear us sling the bat.**
    	         An its best foot first, . . .
 
Its none so bad o Sunday, 
                              when youre lyin at your ease,
To watch the kites a-wheelin
                              round them feather-eaded trees,
For although there aint no women, 
                              yet there aint no barrick-yards,
So the orficers goes shootin
                              an the men they plays at cards.
    	         Till its best foot first, . . .
 
So ark an eed, you rookies, 
                              which is always grumblin sore,
Theres worser things than marchin 
                              from Umballa to Cawnpore;
An if your eels are blistered 
                              an they feels to urt like ell,
You drop some tallow in your socks 
                              an that will make em well.
    	         For its best foot first, . . .
 
Were marchin on relief 
                              over Injias coral strand,
Eight undred fightin Englishmen, 
                              the Colonel, and the Band;
Ho! get away you bullock-man, 
                              youve eard the bugle blowed,
Theres a regiment a-comin 
                              down the Grand Trunk Road;
    	         With its best foot first
    	         And the road a-sliding past,
    	An every bloomin campin-ground 
                              exactly like the last;
    	         While the Big Drum says,
    	         With is rowdy-dowdy-dow! 
    	Kiko kissywarsti 
                              dont you hamsher argy jow?

* Why dont you get on?

** Language. Thomass first and firmest conviction is that he is a profound Orientalist and a fluent speaker of Hindustani. As a matter of fact, he depends largely on the sign-language.



:
  1. Chartres Windows
  2. A Truthful Song
  3. Debits and Credits. (1919-1926). 5. The Centaurs
  4. Debits and Credits. (1919-1926). 10. The Portent
  5. Brazilian Verses. 1927. 6. The Open Door




: 733



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