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Barrack-Room Ballads

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(1892)

Dedicated To T. A.

I have made for you a song,

And it may be right or wrong,

But only you can tell me if it's true;

I have tried for to explain

Both your pleasure and your pain,

And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!

O there'll surely come a day

When they'll give you all your pay,

And treat you as a Christian ought to do;

So, until that day comes round,

Heaven keep you safe and sound,

And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you!

R. K.

You go all your life learning without making any sense of anything. Then all of a sudden, after religion has kept its secrets from your soul and no human being in any occasion could answer the deepest requests of your soul, then and there is Rudyard Kipling's poetry. You go with him through the once-called Indochina, a vast territory dominated by England. He is a fine observer of the soul, of the different and varied characters he found in his life in India. You listen to the local accent and the engines of the trains, and the noise of the crowded streets. You smell the odors and thrill with the colors. And you find your soul and its requests plentifully filled with the humanity of the Indian people.--Submitted by Vitor Antonio de Lima

First collected in 1892, these famous poems by Kipling portray the experiences of soldiers sent around the world to defend the British Empire--all for little pay and less appreciation.--Submitted by Nibel Muhammed

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Danny Deever
"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade. "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said. "What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade. "I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said. For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, The regiment's in 'ollow square -- they're hangin' him to-day; They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away, An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. "What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade. "It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said. "What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade. "A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun", the Colour-Sergeant said. They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground; An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound -- O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'! "'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade. "'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said. "I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times", said Files-on-Parade. "'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said. They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' -- you must look 'im in the face; Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace, While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. "What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade. "It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said. "What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade. "It's Danny's soul that's passin' now", the Colour-Sergeant said. For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away; Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

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