Doonesbury by Garry Trudeau for May 26, 2014

YOU may talk o’ gin an’ beerWhen you’re quartered safe out ‘ere, An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it; But if it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, 5An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it. Now in Injia’s sunny clime, Where I used to spend my time A-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen, Of all them black-faced crew 10The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!You limping lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!Hi! slippy hitherao! 15Water, get it! Panee lao!You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din!"

The uniform ‘e wore Was nothin’ much before, An’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind, 20For a twisty piece o’ rag An’ a goatskin water-bag Was all the field-equipment ‘e could find. When the sweatin’ troop-train lay In a sidin’ through the day, 25Where the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl, We shouted “Harry By!” Till our throats were bricky-dry, Then we wopped ‘im ’cause ’e couldn’t serve us all.

It was "Din! Din! Din! 30You ’eathen, where the mischief ’ave you been?You put some juldee in it,Or I’ll marrow you this minute,If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

‘E would dot an’ carry one 35Till the longest day was done, An’ ‘e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear. If we charged or broke or cut, You could bet your bloomin’ nut, ’E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear. 40With ‘is mussick on ’is back, ’E would skip with our attack, An’ watch us till the bugles made “Retire.” An’ for all ’is dirty ’ide, ’E was white, clear white, inside 45When ’e went to tend the wounded under fire!

It was “Din! Din! Din!”With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.When the cartridges ran out,You could ’ear the front-files shout: 50“Hi! ammunition-mules an’ Gunga Din!”

I sha’n’t forgit the night When I dropped be’ind the fight With a bullet where my belt-plate should ‘a’ been. I was chokin’ mad with thirst, 55An’ the man that spied me first Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.

‘E lifted up my ’ead, An’ ‘e plugged me where I bled, An’ ‘e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water—green; 60It was crawlin’ an’ it stunk, But of all the drinks I’ve drunk, I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ’is spleen; 65’E’s chawin’ up the ground an’ ’e’s kickin’ all around:For Gawd’s sake, git the water, Gunga Din!"

‘E carried me away To where a dooli lay, An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean. 70‘E put me safe inside, An’ just before ‘e died: “I ’ope you liked your drink,” sez Gunga Din. So I’ll meet ‘im later on In the place where ’e is gone— 75Where it’s always double drill and no canteen; ’E’ll be squattin’ on the coals Givin’ drink to pore damned souls, An’ I’ll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din!

Din! Din! Din! 80You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!Tho’ I’ve belted you an’ flayed you,By the livin’ Gawd that made you,You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

Thanks for that. First time I actually read it.

@DHGTalent and enlightenment don’t always go hand in hand.

Great movie, too! I cried throughout the last 15 minutes!

@TravisBickelIf you knew anything about Kipling, it was all about race:-Take up the White Man’s burden—Send forth the best ye breed—Go bind your sons to exileTo serve your captives’ need;To wait in heavy harness,On fluttered folk and wild—Your new-caught, sullen peoples,Half-devil and half-child.

Take up the White Man’s burden—In patience to abide,To veil the threat of terrorAnd check the show of pride;By open speech and simple,An hundred times made plainTo seek another’s profit,And work another’s gain.

Take up the White Man’s burden—The savage wars of peace—Fill full the mouth of FamineAnd bid the sickness cease;And when your goal is nearestThe end for others sought,Watch sloth and heathen FollyBring all your hopes to nought.

Take up the White Man’s burden—No tawdry rule of kings,But toil of serf and sweeper—The tale of common things.The ports ye shall not enter,The roads ye shall not tread,Go mark them with your living,And mark them with your dead.

Take up the White Man’s burden—And reap his old reward:The blame of those ye better,The hate of those ye guard—The cry of hosts ye humour(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:—“Why brought he us from bondage,Our loved Egyptian night?”

Take up the White Man’s burden—Ye dare not stoop to less—Nor call too loud on FreedomTo cloke your weariness;By all ye cry or whisper,By all ye leave or do,The silent, sullen peoplesShall weigh your gods and you.

Take up the White Man’s burden—Have done with childish days—The lightly proferred laurel,The easy, ungrudged praise.Comes now, to search your manhoodThrough all the thankless yearsCold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,The judgment of your peers!

My father passed his love of Kipling’s stories to me, and I can’t wait until great-grandaughter is old enough for me to read the Just So Stories and Puck of Pook’s Hill to her.

When I graduated high school, my parents gave me a copy of the poem “If,” also by Kipling. Also Kipling-related: the film “The Man Who Would Be King.” A “blockbuster” style movie, early 70’s, but enormously entertaining.

Interesting choice for Memorial Day.

Jack Straw, I was also given a card with IF on it for graduation, had my sons memorize it, my favorite graduation gift, from Ed Welch, mentioned that to him later, he did not remember giving it.

travis, sorry, but I do not think so, might as well get the card out in the open as soon as possible.

George McDonald Fraser’s great war memoir of fighting in Burma was titled “Quartered Safe Out Here”.

@Nun’Ya BidnessThis is what I posted posted for Memorial Day on “The New Adventures of Queen Victoria”:-Since Memorial Day originated to honor the dead of the Civil War, I thought the following is appropriate:-Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.Abraham LincolnNovember 19, 1863

I suppose, when racism is no longer an issue. We’re not there yet, unfortunately.

For it’s Tommy This, an’ Tommy That, An’ Chuck ‘im out, the brute!But it’s Saviour of ’is countryWhen the guns begin to shoot.

—Dudley Do-Wrong

Love the poetry. thanks for the Kipling. What we read and see as racist was not so when it was written. Kipling was a product of his upbringing and the society of those times. Just as we are products of our current societies. Times change. Mindsets change. Opinions change. We all change. And grow. .and I just love it when Zonker’s plants talk. Mike’s expression in the last panel is priceless.

Good one. It’s a man’s poem, that. Racist yes, but if I were in similar straits, give me one good Gunga Din. E’d be wi’ ya’ till th’ bloody end.

It is a very beautiful poem;mixing colloquial English with a touch of Hindi here and there. Of course to Indians, Gunga Din is traitor helping the foreign oppressors.

and because they were racists too