Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (1069 page)

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 —
You can leave ‘im at night on a bald man’s ‘ead, to paddle ‘is own canoe —
‘E’s a sort of a bloomin’ cosmopolouse — soldier an’ sailor too.

We’ve fought ‘em in trooper, we’ve fought ‘em in dock, and drunk with ‘em in betweens,
When they called us the seasick scull’ry-maids, an’ we called ‘em the Ass Marines;
But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo,
We sent for the Jollies — ‘Er Majesty’s Jollies — soldier an’ sailor too!
They think for ‘emselves, an’ they steal for ‘emselves, and they never ask what’s to do,
But they’re camped an’ fed an’ they’re up an’ fed before our bugle’s blew.
Ho! they ain’t no limpin’ procrastitutes — soldier an’ sailor too.

You may say we are fond of an ‘arness-cut, or ‘ootin’ in barrick-yards,
Or startin’ a Board School mutiny along o’ the Onion Guards;
But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view,
The same as the Jollies — ‘Er Majesty’s Jollies — soldier an’ sailor too!
They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; they was beggars we’d met an’ knew;
Yes, barrin’ an inch in the chest an’ the arm, they was doubles o’ me an’ you;
For they weren’t no special chrysanthemums — soldier an’ sailor too!

To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about,
Is nothing so bad when you’ve cover to ‘and, an’ leave an’ likin’ to shout;
But to stand an’ be still to the
Birken’ead
drill is a damn tough bullet to chew,
An’ they done it, the Jollies — ‘Er Majesty’s Jollies — soldier an’ sailor too!
Their work was done when it ‘adn’t begun; they was younger nor me an’ you;
Their choice it was plain between drownin’ in ‘eaps an’ bein’ mopped by the screw,
So they stood an’ was still to the
Birken’ead
drill, soldier an’ sailor too!