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[Page 111]
Tommy
By Rudyard Kipling.
I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint of beer,
The publican, he up and sez, - "We serve no "red-coats" 'ere."
The girls behind the bar they laughed and giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again – and to myself, sez I:-
Its Tommy this, and Tommy that – and "Tommy go away",
But its "Thank you Mr Atkins", when the band begins to play.
The band begins to play me boys, the band begins to play,
Then its "Thank you Mr Atkins", - when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre, as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'and't none for me.
They sent me to the gallery, or round the music 'alls,
But when it comes to fightin' – Lord they'll shove me in the stalls.
For its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy wait outside",
But its special train for Atkins, when the "troopers" on the tide.
The troopship's on the tide me boys, the troopship's on the tide.
Oh. its special train for "Atkins" when the troopers on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms, that guard you while you sleep,
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' their starvation cheap.
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers, when they're goin' large a bit,
Is five times better business, than paradin' in full kit.
Then its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' Tommy 'ow's yer soul,
But its "thin red line of 'eroes", when the drums begin to roll:
The drums begin to roll me boys, the drums begin to roll,
Oh! Its "thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll
We weren't no "thin red 'eroes", nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barracks, most remarkable like you!
An' if sometimes our conduct isn't all your fancy paints,-
Why, single men in barracks don't grow from plaster saints.
While its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy fall be'ind",
But its "Please to walk in front, Sir", - when theres trouble in the wind.
There's trouble in the wind me boys, theres trouble in the wind.
Then its "Please to walk in fron, Sir", when theres trouble in the wind.
You talk of better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all,
We'll wait for entry rations, - if you'll only treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room, slops, but prove it to our face,-
The "Widow's" uniform is not the soldier man's disgrace.
For its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "chuck 'im out the brute",
But its "Savious of 'is Country", when the guns begin to shoot.
For its Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please,
But Tommy aint no bloomin' fool, - you bet that Tommy sees!