Rudyard Kipling

«Barrack-Room Ballads». 22. Private Ortheris’s Song

My girl she give me the go onest,
        When I was a London lad;
An’ I went on the drink for a fortnight,
        An’ then I went to the bad.
The Queen she give me a shillin’
        To fight for ’er over the seas;
But Guv’ment built me a fever-trap,
        An’ Injia give me disease. 
(Chorus)   
Ho! don’t you ’eed what a girl says,
         An’ don’t you go for the beer;
But I was an ass when I was at grass,
         An’ that is why I’m ’ere. 
I fired a shot at a Afghan,
        The beggar ’e fired again,
An’ I lay on my bed with a ’ole in my ’ed,
        An’ missed the next campaign!
I up with my gun at a Burman
        Who carried a bloomin’ dah,
But the cartridge stuck and the bay’nit bruk,
        An’ all I got was the scar. 
(Chorus)   
Ho! don’t you aim at a Afghan,
        When you stand on the skyline clear;
An’ don’t you go for a Burman
        If none o’ your friends is near. 
I served my time for a Corp’ral,
        An’ wetted my stripes with pop,
For I went on the bend with a intimate friend,
       An’ finished the night in the “shop.”
I served my time for a Sergeant;
       The Colonel ’e sez “No!
The most you’ll see is a full C.B.”
       An’ . . . very next night ’twas so! 
(Chorus)   
Ho! don’t you go for a Corp’ral
      Unless your ’ed is clear;
But I was an ass when I was at grass,
      An’ that is why I’m ’ere. 
I’ve tasted the luck o’ the Army
      In barrack an’ camp an’ clink,
An’ I lost my tip through the bloomin’ trip
      Along o’ the women an’ drink.
I’m down at the heel o’ my service,
      An’ when I am laid on the shelf,
My very worst friend from beginning to end
      By the blood of a mouse was myself! 
(Chorus)   
Ho! don’t you ’eed what a girl says,
      An’ don’t you go for the beer;
But I was an ass when I was at grass,
      An’ that is why I’m ’ere!