Society and the World

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

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!

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!

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!

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

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 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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin’ fishes play, An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the Bay!

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!”

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

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.

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!

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.