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Jim Croce - Gunga Din lyrics
Traditional - Revised & Arranged by - Jim Croce 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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