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Текст (слова) песни: Jim Croce - Gunga Din



You may talk of gin and beer
When you`re stationed way out here
An` you`re sent to penny fights an` Aldershot it
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work for water
An` you`ll lick the boots of `im that`s got it
Now in Inja`s sunny clime
Where I used to spend my time
Servin` her Majesty the Queen
Of all the black faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was regimental bhisti, Gunga Din

The uniform he wore
Was nothin` much before
An` rather less than half of that behind
But a piece of twisty rag
An` 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 done
An` never seemed to know the use of fear
If we charged or broke or cut
You could bet your bloomin` nut
He`d be waitin` fifty paces right flank rear
With his mussick on his back
He would skip to our attack
An` 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, Din
With 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 thirst
An` the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin`, gruntin` Gunga Din
He lifted up my head
An` he plugged me where I bled
An` he gave me half a pint of water green
It was crawlin` and it stunk
But of all the drinks I`ve drunk
I`m most grateful to the one from Gunga Din

He carried me away
To where a dooli lay
An` a bullet came and drilled the beggar clean
He carried me inside
An` just before he died
I hope you like your drink said Gunga Din
So I`ll meet him later on
In the place where he as gone
Where it`s always double drill and no canteen
He`ll be squattin` on the coals
Givin` drink to poor damn souls
I`ll catch a swig in hell from Gunga Din

It was Din, Din, Din
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din
Tho` I`ve belted you an` flayed you
By the livin` God that made you
Your a better man than I am, Gunga Din

 

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