« 上一頁繼續 »
Since August, when it started, it's been sticking to our tail,
Tho' they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail;
But it runs as fast as troop-trains, an' we can not get away;
An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more
There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink;
It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march
An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear
the jackals say,
"Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more
'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things—
Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin'
An' Lances actin' Sergeants-eight file to obey
For we've lot's o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day!
Our Colonel's white an' twitterly-'e gets no sleep nor food,
But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good.
'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay
But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day.
Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides,
An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides!
With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay!
'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day.
An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks
He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks;
An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray;
So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a
We've got the cholerer in camp-we've got it 'ot an' sweet;
It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we
We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay,
An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day!
Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin',
The bugle's callin'!
The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below!
An' them that do not like it they can lump it,
We might as well begin to do it now!
Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole
Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners-so!
(Gawd 'elp us!)
I've taken my fun where I've found it;
An' four o' the lot was prime.
One was a woman at Prome,
Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies,
You never can say till you've tried 'em,
There's times when you'll think that you mightn't,
They'll 'elp you an 'eap with the White!
I was a young un at 'Oogli,
An' Aggie was clever as sin;
More like a mother she were-
Then I was ordered to Burma,
Actin' in charge o' Bazar,
Doll in a teacup she were,
But we lived on the square, like a true-married
An' I learned about women from 'er.
Then we was shifted to Neemuch
(Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), An' I took with a shiny she-devil,
The wife of a nigger at Mhow;