Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated), page 805
I’d pray Gawd to take yer
‘Fore I made yer mine!
Escort to the kerridge,
Wish ‘im luck, the brute!
Chuck the slippers after —
[Pity ‘tain’t a boot!]
Bowin’ like a lady,
Blushin’ like a lad —
‘Oo would say to see ‘em
Both is rotten bad?
Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’ —
Give ‘em one cheer more!
Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
An’ a rogue is married to, etc.
The Servant When He Reigneth
“For three things the earth is disquieted, and for four which it cannot bear. For a servant when he reigneth, and a fool when he is filled with meat; for an odious woman when she is married, and an handmaid that is heir to her mistress.” — PROV. XXX. 21-22-23.
Three things make earth unquiet
And four she cannot brook
The godly Agur counted them
And put them in a book —
Those Four Tremendous Curses
With which mankind is cursed;
But a Servant when He Reigneth
Old Agur entered first.
An Handmaid that is Mistress
We need not call upon.
A Fool when he is full of Meat
Will fall asleep anon.
An Odious Woman Married
May bear a babe and mend;
But a Servant when He Reigneth
Is Confusion to the end.
His feet are swift to tumult,
His hands are slow to toil,
His ears are deaf to reason,
His lips are loud in broil.
He knows no use for power
Except to show his might.
He gives no heed to judgment
Unless it prove him right.
Because he served a master
Before his Kingship came,
And hid in all disaster
Behind his master’s name,
So, when his Folly opens
The unnecessary hells,
A Servant when He Reigneth
Throws the blame on some one else.
His vows are lightly spoken,
His faith is hard to bind,
His trust is easy boken,
He fears his fellow-kind.
The nearest mob will move him
To break the pledge he gave —
Oh, a Servant when he Reigneth
Is more than ever slave!
Sestina of the Tramp-Royal
Speakin’ in general, I’ave tried ‘em all
The ‘appy roads that take you o’er the world.
Speakin’ in general, I’ave found them good
For such as cannot use one bed too long,
But must get ‘ence, the same as I’ave done,
An’ go observin’ matters till they die.
What do it matter where or ‘ow we die,
So long as we’ve our ‘ealth to watch it all —
The different ways that different things are done,
An’ men an’ women lovin’ in this world;
Takin’ our chances as they come along,
An’ when they ain’t, pretendin’ they are good?
In cash or credit — no, it aren’t no good;
You’ve to ‘ave the ‘abit or you’d die,
Unless you lived your life but one day long,
Nor didn’t prophesy nor fret at all,
But drew your tucker some’ow from the world,
An’ never bothered what you might ha’ done.
But, Gawd, what things are they I’aven’t done?
I’ve turned my ‘and to most, an’ turned it good,
In various situations round the world
For ‘im that doth not work must surely die;
But that’s no reason man should labour all
‘Is life on one same shift — life’s none so long.
Therefore, from job to job I’ve moved along.
Pay couldn’t ‘old me when my time was done,
For something in my ‘ead upset it all,
Till I’ad dropped whatever ‘twas for good,
An’, out at sea, be’eld the dock-lights die,
An’ met my mate — the wind that tramps the world!
It’s like a book, I think, this bloomin, world,
Which you can read and care for just so long,
But presently you feel that you will die
Unless you get the page you’re readi’n’ done,
An’ turn another — likely not so good;
But what you’re after is to turn’em all.
Gawd bless this world! Whatever she’oth done —
Excep’ When awful long — I’ve found it good.
So write, before I die, “‘E liked it all!”
The Settler
1903
(South African War ended, May, 1902)
Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run,
And the deep soil glistens red,
I will repair the wrong that was done
To the living and the dead.
Here, where the senseless bullet fell,
And the barren shrapnel burst,
I will plant a tree, I will dig a well,
Against the heat and the thirst.
Here, in a large and a sunlit land,
Where no wrong bites to the bone,
I will lay my hand in my neighbour’s hand,
And together we will atone
For the set folly and the red breach
And the black waste of it all;
Giving and taking counsel each
Over the cattle-kraal.
Here will we join against our foes —
The hailstroke and the storm,
And the red and rustling cloud that blows
The locust’s mile-deep swarm.
Frost and murrain and floods let loose
Shall launch us side by side
In the holy wars that have no truce
‘Twixt seed and harvest-tide.
Earth, where we rode to slay or be slain,
Our love shall redeem unto life.
We will gather and lead to her lips again
The waters of ancient strife,
From the far and fiercely guarded streams
And the pools where we lay in wait,
Till the corn cover our evil dreams
And the young corn our hate.
And when we bring old fights to mind,
We will not remember the sin —
If there be blood on his head of my kind,
Or blood on my head of his kin —
For the ungrazed upland, the untilled lea
Cry, and the fields forlorn:
“ The dead must bury their dead, but ye-
Ye serve an host unborn.”
Bless then, Our God, the new-yoked plough
And the good beasts that draw,
And the bread we eat in the sweat of our brow
According to Thy Law.
After us cometh a multitude —
Prosper the work of our hands,
That we may feed with our land’s food
The folk of all our lands!
Here, in the waves and the troughs of the plains,
Where the healing stillness lies,
And the vast, benignant sky restrains
And the long days make wise —
Bless to our use the rain and the sun
And the blind seed in its bed,
That we may repair the wrong that was done
To the living and the dead!
Seven Watchmen
1918
SEVEN Watchmen sitting in a tower,
Watching what had come upon mankind,
Showed the Man the Glory and the Power,
And bade him shape the Kingdom to his mind.
“All things on Earth your will shall win you.”
(‘Twas so their council ran)
“ But the Kingdom — the Kingdom is within you,”
Said the Man’s own mind to the Man.
For time — and some time —
As it was in the bitter years before
So it shall be in the over-sweetened hour —
That a man’s mind is wont to tell him more
Than Seven Watchmen sitting in a tower.
Shillin’ a Day
My name is O’Kelly, I’ve heard the Revelly
From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore,
Hong-Kong and Peshawur,
Lucknow and Etawah,
And fifty-five more all endin’ in “pore”.
Black Death and his quickness, the depth and the thickness,
Of sorrow and sickness I’ve known on my way,
But I’m old and I’m nervis,
I’m cast from the Service,
And all I deserve is a shillin’ a day.
(Chorus) Shillin’ a day,
Bloomin’ good pay —
Lucky to touch it, a shillin’ a day!
Oh, it drives me half crazy to think of the days I
Went slap for the Ghazi, my sword at my side,
When we rode Hell-for-leather
Both squadrons together,
That didn’t care whether we lived or we died.
But it’s no use despairin’, my wife must go charin’
An’ me commissairin’ the pay-bills to better,
So if me you be’old
In the wet and the cold,
By the Grand Metropold, won’t you give me a letter?
(Full chorus) Give ‘im a letter —
‘Can’t do no better,
Late Troop-Sergeant-Major an’ — runs with a letter!
Think what ‘e’s been,
Think what ‘e’s seen,
Think of his pension an’ — —
GAWD SAVE THE QUEEN.
Sir Richard’s Song
(A. D. 1066)
I followed my Duke ere I was a lover,
To take from England fief and fee;
But now this game is the other way over —
But now England hath taken me!
I had my horse, my shield and banner,
And a boy’s heart, so whole and free;
But now I sing in another manner —
But now England hath taken me!
As for my Father in his tower,
Asking news of my ship at sea,
He will remember his own hour —
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my Mother in her bower,
That rules my Father so cunningly,
She will remember a maiden’s power —
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my Brother in Rouen City,
A nimble and naughty’ page is he,
But he will come to suffer and pity —
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my little Sister waiting
In the pleasant orchards of Normandie,
Tell her youth is the time for mating —
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my comrades in camp and highway
That lift their eyebrows scornfully,
Tell them their way is not my way —
Tell them England hath taken me!
Kings and Princes and Barons famed,
Knights and Captains in your degree;
Hear me a little before I am blamed —
Seeing England hath taken me!
Howso great man’s strength be reckoned,
There are two things he cannot flee.
Love is the first, and Death is the second-
And Love in England hath taken me!
A Smuggler’s Song
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street.
Them that ask no questions isn’t told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark —
Brandy for the Parson,
‘Baccy for the Clerk;
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine,
Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use ‘em for your play.
Put the brishwood back again — and they’ll be gone next day!
If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining’s wet and warm — don’t you ask no more!
If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red,
You be carefull what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you “pretty maid,” and chuck you ‘neath the chin,
Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been!
Knocks and footsteps round the house — whistles after dark —
You’ve no call for running out till the house-dogs bark.
Trusty’s here, and Pincher’s here, and see how dumb they lie —
They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!
If you do as you’ve been told, ‘likely there’s a chance,
You’ll be given a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood —
A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good!
Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark —
Brandy for the Parson,
‘Baccy for the Clerk;
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie —
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen bo by!
Snarleyow
This ‘appened in a battle to a batt’ry of the corps
Which is first among the women an’ amazin’ first in war;
An’ what the bloomin’ battle was I don’t remember now,
But Two’s off-lead ‘e answered to the name o’ Snarleyow.
Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel ‘e swears;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
They was movin’ into action, they was needed very sore,
To learn a little schoolin’ to a native army corps,
They ‘ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin’ down the brow,
When a tricky, trundlin’ roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow.
They cut ‘im loose an’ left ‘im — ‘e was almost tore in two —
But he tried to follow after as a well-trained ‘orse should do;
‘E went an’ fouled the limber, an’ the Driver’s Brother squeals:
“Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow — ‘is head’s between ‘is ‘eels!”
The Driver ‘umped ‘is shoulder, for the wheels was goin’ round,
An’ there ain’t no “Stop, conductor!” when a batt’ry’s changin’ ground;
Sez ‘e: “I broke the beggar in, an’ very sad I feels,
But I couldn’t pull up, not for you — your ‘ead between your ‘eels!”
‘E ‘adn’t ‘ardly spoke the word, before a droppin’ shell
A little right the batt’ry an’ between the sections fell;
An’ when the smoke ‘ad cleared away, before the limber wheels,
There lay the Driver’s Brother with ‘is ‘ead between ‘is ‘eels.
Then sez the Driver’s Brother, an’ ‘is words was very plain,
“For Gawd’s own sake get over me, an’ put me out o’ pain.”
They saw ‘is wounds was mortial, an’ they judged that it was best,
So they took an’ drove the limber straight across ‘is back an’ chest.
The Driver ‘e give nothin’ ‘cept a little coughin’ grunt,
But ‘e swung ‘is ‘orses ‘andsome when it came to “Action Front!”
An’ if one wheel was juicy, you may lay your Monday head
‘Twas juicier for the niggers when the case begun to spread.
The moril of this story, it is plainly to be seen:
You ‘avn’t got no families when servin’ of the Queen —
You ‘avn’t got no brothers, fathers, sisters, wives, or sons —
If you want to win your battles take an’ work your bloomin’ guns!
Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;
Down in the Cavalry, Colonel ‘e swears;
But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog
Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!
Soldier an’ Sailor Too
As I was spittin’ into the Ditch aboard o’ the Crocodile,
I seed a man on a man-o’-war got up in the Reg’lars’ style.
‘E was scrapin’ the paint from off of ‘er plates, an’ I sez to ‘im, “‘Oo are you?”
Sez ‘e, “I’m a Jolly — ‘Er Majesty’s Jolly — soldier an’ sailor too!”
Now ‘is work begins by Gawd knows when, and ‘is work is never through;
‘E isn’t one o’ the reg’lar Line, nor ‘e isn’t one of the crew.
‘E’s a kind of a giddy harumfrodite — soldier an’ sailor too!
An’ after I met ‘im all over the world, a-doin’ all kinds of things,
Like landin’ ‘isself with a Gatlin’ gun to talk to them ‘eathen kings;
‘E sleeps in an ‘ammick instead of a cot, an’ ‘e drills with the deck on a slew,
An’ ‘e sweats like a Jolly — ‘Er Majesty’s Jolly — soldier an’ sailor too!
For there isn’t a job on the top o’ the earth the beggar don’t know, nor do —
