Paroles Gunga din Jim Croce

Gunga din

You may talk of gin and beer
When you're stationed way out hereAn' you're sent to penny fights an' Aldershot it
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work for waterAn' you'll lick the boots of 'im that's got it
Now in Inja's sunny clime
Where I used to spend my timeServin' her Majesty the QueenOf all the black faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was regimental bhisti, Gunga Din The uniform he wore
Was nothin' much beforeAn' rather less than half of that behind
But a piece of twisty ragAn' a goatskin water bag
Was all the field equipment he could find When a sweatin' troop train lay
In a sidin' through the day
Where the heat would make you bloomin' eyebrows crawl
We shouted, "Harry By"Till our throats were bricky-dry
Then wopped him 'cause he couldn't serve us all
He would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was doneAn' never seemed to know the use of fear
If we charged or broke or cut
You could bet your bloomin' nutHe'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear
With his mussick on his back
He would skip to our attackAn' watch us till the bugles made"Retire"An' for all his dirty hide
He was white, clear white inside
When he went to tend the wounded under fire It was Din, Din, DinWith the bullets kickin' dust spots on the green
And when the cartridges ran out
You could hear the front files shout
Send ammunition mules, and Gunga Din!I shan't forget the night
When I fell behind the fight
With a bullet where my belt plate should a' been
I was chokin' mad with thirstAn' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga DinHe lifted up my headAn' he plugged me where I bledAn' he gave me half a pint of water green
It was crawlin' and it stunk
But of all the drinks I've drunkI'm most grateful to the one from Gunga Din He carried me away
To where a dooli layAn' a bullet came and drilled the beggar clean
He carried me insideAn' just before he died
I hope you like your drink said Gunga DinSo I'll meet him later on
In the place where he as gone
Where it's always double drill and no canteenHe'll be squattin' on the coalsGivin' drink to poor damn soulsI'll catch a swig in hell from Gunga Din It was Din, Din, DinYou Lazarushian-leather Gunga DinTho' I've belted you an' flayed you
By the livin' God that made you
Your a better man than I am, Gunga Din