Sunday Kipling

The weather here has been psychotic. We went from 113 and dry to a rainy 75 overnight. The storms should be past and back to hot again by Tuesday.

My nephew, little brother's eldest son, is about to join the ranks. He heads off to Air Force basic tomorrow. Welcome to the brotherhood J. You are joining the august company of millions of men and women who have placed their lives between home and the war's desolation. I'm proud to welcome you. Serve with honor, pride and integrity. And never forget those who came before and have given their lives, their health and their futures so that we could live in the greatest country on the face of the Earth.

I'm feeling a little under the weather (heh heh) today so it'll probably be a lazy day. I hope you are all well and happy. May this day find you all in the company of those you love.

Today's Sunday Kipling is dedicated to my beloved nephew J as he begins his journey to manhood. You are the latest of the family to serve. May you not be the last. I am so very proud of you.
Your uncle.
Six

Troopin'

(Our Army in the East)

Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea:
'Ere's September come again -- the six-year men are free.
O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away
To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 'ome to-day.
   We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,
    Our ship is at the shore,
   An' you must pack your 'aversack,
    For we won't come back no more.
   Ho, don't you grieve for me,
    My lovely Mary-Ann,
   For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
    As a time-expired man.
 
The Malabar's in 'arbour with the ~Jumner~ at 'er tail,
An' the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders for to sail.
Ho! the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we lay,
But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome to-day.
 
They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold an' wet an' rain,
All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not complain;
They'll kill us of pneumonia -- for that's their little way --
But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 'ome to-day!
 
Troopin', troopin', winter's round again!
See the new draf's pourin' in for the old campaign;
Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn your pay --
What's the last from Lunnon, lads?  We're goin' there to-day.
 
Troopin', troopin', give another cheer --
'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English beer.
The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got to stay,
Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle -- Whoop! we're goin' 'ome to-day.
    We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome,
     Our ship is at the shore,
    An' you must pack your 'aversack,
     For we won't come back no more.
    Ho, don't you grieve for me,
     My lovely Mary-Ann,
    For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit
     As a time-expired man.