Veteran's Day Kipling

That's right, it's that rarest of rares. The double Kipling Sunday. For you aficionados out there it's a great day. For those somewhat less enamored of Kipling I promise to post something else tomorrow. In the meantime it's a Veteran's Day tradition around here to post this poem on this day.

For all my brothers and sisters. For all who have stood their watch, in peacetime and in War. Who have served in every hell hole in the world. Who have seen their beloved comrades give their last true measure of devotion. Who have seen untold horrors and lived through the fire and the pain and the gut clenching fear. For those who have simply served, asking no favors and telling no lies, just proud to have been among the select. To every Soldier, Marine, Airmen, Sailor and Coast Guardsman past and present. I Love You All with every fiber of my being and to the very depths of my soul. This is my tribute to all of you. May your nation never forget and may you always wear your scars, both visible and hidden with pride.

Six

Tommy

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins 

to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins 

to play.
 
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in 

the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on 

the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on 

the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on 

the tide.
 
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's 

yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin 

to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin 

to roll.
 
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 

fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble 

in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble 

in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble 

in the wind.
 
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, 

an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to 

our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, 

the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin 

to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything 

you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- 

you bet that Tommy sees!