Society and the World

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again! There’s no discharge in the war!

Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges— Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!

I keep six honest serving men (They taught me all I knew); Their names are What and Why and When And How and Where and Who.

Take up the White Man’s burden, 4 Send forth the best ye breed— Go, bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need.

Take up the White Man’s burden, 4 Send forth the best ye breed— Go, bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need.

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Lesser breeds without the Law.

The tumult and the shouting dies; The captains and the kings depart.

God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine— Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Daughter am I in my mother’s house; But mistress in my own.

For the Colonel’s Lady an’ Judy O’Grady Are sisters under their skins!

For the Colonel’s Lady an’ Judy O’Grady Are sisters under their skins!

They change their skies above them, But not their hearts that roam.

The Liner she’s a lady, an’ she never looks nor ’eeds— The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e gives ’er all she needs, But, oh, the little cargo boats that sail the wet seas roun’, They’re just the same as you an’ me a-plyin’ up and down!

The Liner she’s a lady, an’ she never looks nor ’eeds— The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e gives ’er all she needs, But, oh, the little cargo boats that sail the wet seas roun’, They’re just the same as you an’ me a-plyin’ up and down!

Back to the Army again, sergeant, Back to the Army again. Out o’ the cold an’ the rain.

When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.

There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays, And every single one of them is right.

There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake, Or the way of a man with a maid; But the sweetest way to me is a ship’s upon the sea In the heel of the Northeast Trade.

The sin ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one.

The sin ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one.

There’s a legion that never was ’listed, That carries no colors or crest.

And what should they know of England who only England know?

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, Where there aren’t no Ten Commandments, an’ a man can raise a thirst.