Society and the World

’Ave you ’eard o’ the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on ’er ’ead?

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ eastward to the sea, There’s a Burma girl a-settin’, and I know she thinks o’ me; For the wind is in the palm trees, and the temple bells they say: “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!”

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

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.

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.

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck ’im out, the brute!” But it’s “Savior of ’is country” when the guns begin to shoot.

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck ’im out, the brute!” But it’s “Savior of ’is country” when the guns begin to shoot.

We aren’t no thin red ’eroes.

We aren’t no thin red ’eroes.

They’ve taken of his buttons off an’ cut his stripes away, An’ they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.

“What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade. “To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Color-Sergeant said.

They rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen unafraid.

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, though they come from the ends of the earth!

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, though they come from the ends of the earth!

Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone. 1

I have eaten your bread and salt. I have drunk your water and wine. The deaths ye died I have watched beside And the lives ye led were mine.

Little Tin Gods on Wheels.

Little Tin Gods on Wheels.

At my dying hour, and over my long life, A clock strikes somewhere at the city’s edge.

When a voice behind me whispered low, “That fellow’s got to swing.”

I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.

I long for Europe of the ancient parapets. 8

No! the two kinds of people on earth that I mean Are the people who lift and the people who lean.

The untented Kosmos my abode, I pass, a willful stranger; My mistress still the open road And the bright eyes of danger.