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Поэзия и песни
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Gunga Din

 You may talk o` gin and beer
 When you`re quartered safe out `ere,
 An` you`re sent to penny-fights an` Aldershot it;
 But when it comes to slaughter
 You will do your work on water,
 An` you`ll lick the bloomin` boots of `im that`s got it.
 Now in Injia`s sunny clime,
 Where I used to spend my time
 A-servin` of `Er Majesty the Queen,
 Of all them blackfaced crew
 The finest man I knew
 Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
 He was `Din! Din! Din!
 You limping lump o` brick-dust, Gunga Din!
 Hi! slippery hitherao!
 Water, get it! Panee lao!
 You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.`
 
 The uniform `e wore
 Was nothin` much before,
 An` rather less than `arfo` that be`ind,
 For a piece o` twisty rag
 An` a goatskin water-bag
 Was all the field-equipment `e could find.
 When the sweatin` troop-train lay
 In a sidin` through the day,
 Where the `eat would make your bloomin` eyebrows crawl,
 We shouted `Harry By!`
 Till our throats were bricky-dry,
 Then we wopped `im `cause `e couldn`t serve us all.
 It was `Din! Din! Din!
 You `eathen, where the mischief `ave you been?
 You put some juldee in it
 Or I`ll marrow you this minute
 If you don`t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!
 
 `E would dot an` carry one
 Till the longest day was done;
 An` `e didn`t seem to know the use o` fear.
 If we charged or broke or cut,
 You could bet your bloomin` nut,
 `E`d be waitin` fifty paces right flank rear.
 With `is mussick[2] on `is back,
 `E would skip with our attack,
 An` watch us till the bugles made `Retire,`
 An` for all `is dirty `ide
 `E was white, clear white, inside
 When `e went to tend the wounded under fire!
 It was `Din! Din! Din!`
 With the bullets kickin` dust-spots on the green.
 When the cartridges ran out,
 You could hear the front-files shout,
 `Hi! ammunition-mules an` Gunga Din!`
 
 I sha`n`t forgit the night
 When I dropped be`ind the fight
 With a bullet where my belt-plate should `a` been.
 I was chokin` mad with thirst,
 An` the man that spied me first
 Was our good old grinnin`, gruntin` Gunga Din.
 `E lifted up my `ead,
 An` he plugged me where I bled,
 An` `e guv me `arf-a-pint o` water-green:
 It was crawlin` and it stunk,
 But of all the drinks I`ve drunk,
 I`m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
 It was `Din! Din! Din!`
 `Ere`s a beggar with a bullet through `is spleen;
 `E`s chawin` up the ground,
 An` `e`s kickin` all around:
 For Gawd`s sake git the water, Gunga Din!
 
 `E carried me away
 To where a dooli lay,
 An` a bullet come an` drilled the beggar clean.
 `E put me safe inside,
 An` just before `e died:
 `I `ope you liked your drink,` sez Gunga Din.
 So I`ll meet `im later on
 At the place where `e is gone--
 Where it`s always double drill and no canteen;
 `E`ll be squattin` on the coals,
 Givin` drink to poor damned souls,
 An` I`ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
 Yes, Din! Din! Din!
 You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
 Though I`ve belted you and flayed you,
 By the living Gawd that made you,
 You`re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
 

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