Tommy
Rudyard Kipling
1865 to 1936
Track 1
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Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;