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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510875" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Route Marchin</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains,<br>A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains;<br>Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,<br>There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road;<br> With its best foot first<br> And the road a-sliding past,<br> An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last;<br> While the Big Drum says,<br> With 'is &quot;~rowdy-dowdy-dow!~&quot; --<br> &quot;~Kiko kissywarsti~ don't you ~hamsher argy jow?~&quot;*<br> <br>* Why don't you get on?<br> <br>Oh, there's them Injian temples to admire when you see,<br>There's the peacock round the corner an' the monkey up the tree,<br>An' there's that rummy silver grass a-wavin' in the wind,<br>An' the old Grand Trunk a-trailin' like a rifle-sling be'ind.<br> While it's best foot first, . . .<br> <br>At half-past five's Revelly, an' our tents they down must come,<br>Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick 'em up at 'ome.<br>But it's over in a minute, an' at six the column starts,<br>While the women and the kiddies sit an' shiver in the carts.<br> An' it's best foot first, . . .<br> <br>Oh, then it's open order, an' we lights our pipes an' sings,<br>An' we talks about our rations an' a lot of other things,<br>An' we thinks o' friends in England, an' we wonders what they're at,<br>An' 'ow they would admire for to hear us sling the ~bat~.*<br> An' it's best foot first, . . .<br> <br>* Language. Thomas's first and firmest conviction is that<br>he is a profound Orientalist and a fluent speaker of Hindustani.<br>As a matter of fact, he depends largely on the sign-language.<br> <br>It's none so bad o' Sunday, when you're lyin' at your ease,<br>To watch the kites a-wheelin' round them feather-'eaded trees,<br>For although there ain't no women, yet there ain't no barrick-yards,<br>So the orficers goes shootin' an' the men they plays at cards.<br> Till it's best foot first, . . .<br> <br>So 'ark an' 'eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin' sore,<br>There's worser things than marchin' from Umballa to Cawnpore;<br>An' if your 'eels are blistered an' they feels to 'urt like 'ell,<br>You drop some tallow in your socks an' that will make 'em well.<br> For it's best foot first, . . .<br> <br>We're marchin' on relief over Injia's coral strand,<br>Eight 'undred fightin' Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band;<br>Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,<br>There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road;<br> With its best foot first<br> And the road a-sliding past,<br> An' every bloomin' campin'-ground exactly like the last;<br> While the Big Drum says,<br> With 'is &quot;~rowdy-dowdy-dow!~&quot; --<br> &quot;~Kiko kissywarsti~ don't you ~hamsher argy jow?~&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510875" data-title="Route Marchin de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains,
A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains;
Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,
There's a regiment a-comin' down the Grand Trunk Road;
 With its best foot..."></div>
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