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DANNY DEEVER

Kudyard Kipling

"WHAT are the bugles blowin' for ?" said Files-on-Parade.

"To turn you out, to turn you out," the Color-Sergeant said.

"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade. "I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch," the Color-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 Color-Sergeant said.

"What makes that front-rank man fall
down?" says Files-on-Parade.
"A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun," the Color-
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'!

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"What's that so black agin the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.

"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life," the Color-Sergeant said.

"What's that that whimpers over❜ead ?" said Files-on-Parade.

"It's Danny's soul that 's passin' now," the Color-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'.

"FUZZY-WUZZY "

(SOUDAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE) WE'VE fought with many men acrost the

seas,

An' some of 'em was brave an' some was

not,

The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese ; But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.

We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im :

'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,

'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,

An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;

You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;

We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed

We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you 're inclined.

We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills,

The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,

An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: But all we ever got from such as they Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;

We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers

say,

But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.

Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;

Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.

We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it
was n't 'ardly fair;

But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-
Wuz, you broke the square.

'E 'as n't got no papers of 'is own,

'E 'as n't got no medals nor rewards, So we must certify the skill 'e 's shown

In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords : When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush

With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovelspear,

An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a

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'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.

'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e 's a lamb!

'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, 'E's the on'y thing that does n't give a damn

For a Regiment o' British Infantree!

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your
'ome in the Soudan;

You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a
first-class fightin' man ; ̧
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with
your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -
You big black boundin' beggar

you broke a British square e!

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for

THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,

Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth!

Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border side,

And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the Colonel's pride :

He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day, And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away.

Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the Guides:

"Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides ? " Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar,

"If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know where his pickets are. At dusk he harries the Abazai — at dawn he is into Bonair,

But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare,

So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,

By the favor of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai, But if he be passed the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then,

For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with Kamal's

men.

There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between, And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen."

The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he,

With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell, and the head of the gallows

tree.

The Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat.

He's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,

Till he was aware of his father's mare in
the gut of the Tongue of Jagai,
Till he was aware of his father's mare with
Kamal upon her back,

And when he could spy the white of her
eye, he made the pistol crack.
He has fired once, he has fired twice, but
the whistling ball went wide.
"Ye shoot like a soldier," Kamal said.
"Show now if ye can ride."
It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as
blown dust-devils go,

The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.

The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above,

But the red mare played with the snaffle

bars, as a maiden plays with a glove. There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between, And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never a man was seen. They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn, The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn. The dun he fell at a water-course woful heap fell he,

in a

And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free.

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand -small room was there to strive, ""T was only by favor of mine," quoth he, 'ye rode so long alive :

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There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree, But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.

If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,

The little jackals that flee so fast, were feasting all in a row:

If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,

The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly." Lightly answered the Colonel's son: - "Do good to bird and beast,

But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast.

If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,

Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay.

They will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men on the garnered grain,

The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain. But if thou thinkest the price be fair,thy brethren wait to sup, The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, howl, dog, and call them up ! And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack,

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Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back!"'

Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet.

"No talk shall be of dogs," said he, "when wolf and gray wolf meet.

May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath;

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So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my

turquoise-studded rein,

My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain."

The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end,

"Ye have taken the one from a foe," said he; " will ye take the mate from a friend?"

"A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; 66 a limb for the risk of a limb. father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him!"

Thy

With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest. "Now here is thy master,' "Kamal said, "who leads a troop of the Guides, And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides.

Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,

Thy life is his-thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.

So thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes are thine,

And thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the border-line. And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur."

They have looked each other between the

eyes, and there they found no fault, They have taken the Oath of the Brother

in-Blood on leavened bread and salt : They have taken the Oath of the Brother

in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod, On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God. The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's boy the dun,

And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one. And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer. "Ha' done! ha' done!" said the Colonel's son. "Put up the steel at your sides! Last night ye had struck at a Border thief-to-night 't is a man of the Guides !"

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the two shall meet,

Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth.

THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS

WHEN the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,

Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould; And the first rude sketch that the world

had seen was joy to his mighty heart, Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

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The tale is as old as the Eden Tree - and new as the new-cut tooth For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth; And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart, The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art?"

We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice-peg, We have learned to bottle our parents

twain in the yelk of an addled egg, We know that the tail must wag the dog,

for the horse is drawn by the cart; But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old: "It's clever, but is it Art?"

When the flicker of London sun falls faint

on the Club-room's green and gold, The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch with their pens in the mould — They scratch with their pens in the mould of their graves, and the ink and the anguish start,

For the Devil mutters behind the leaves : "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

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As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back;

For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

Wash daily from nose tip to tail tip ; drink

deeply, but never too deep; And remember the night is for hunting and forget not the day is for sleep.

The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, | when thy whiskers are grown, Remember the wolf is a hunter-go forth and get food of thy own.

Keep peace with the lords of the jungle, the tiger, the panther, the bear; And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the boar in his lair.

When pack meets with pack in the jungle,

and neither will go from the trail, Lie down till the leaders have spoken; it may be fair words shall prevail.

When ye fight with a wolf of the pack ye

must fight him alone and afar, Lest others take part in the quarrel and the pack is diminished by war.

The lair of the wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,

Not even the head wolf may enter, not even the council may come.

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The kill of the pack is the meat of the pack. Ye must eat where it lies; And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.

The kill of the wolf is the meat of the wolf. He may do what he will, But, till he is given permission, the pack may not eat of that kill.

Lair right is the right of the mother. From all of her year she may claim One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.

Cub right is the right of the yearling. From all of his pack he may claim Full gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.

Cave right is the right of the father, to hunt by himself for his own;

He is freed from all calls to the pack. He is judged by the council alone.

Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw, In all that the law leaveth open the word of the head wolf is law.

Now these are the laws of the jungle, and many and mighty are they; But the head and the hoof of the law and the haunch and the hump is - Obey !

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