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Gunga Din
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Croce Jim
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Croce Jim
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Facets
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Gunga Din
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Traditional - Revised & Arranged by - Jim Croce
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You may talk of gin and beer
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When you're stationed way out here
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An' you're sent to penny fights an' Aldershot it
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But when it comes to slaughter
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You will do your work for water
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An' you'll lick the boots of 'im that's got it
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Now in Inja's sunny clime
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Where I used to spend my time
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Servin' her Majesty the Queen
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Of all the black faced crew
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The finest man I knew
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Was regimental bhisti, Gunga Din
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The uniform he wore
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Was nothin' much before
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An' rather less than half of that behind
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But a piece of twisty rag
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An' a goatskin water bag
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Was all the field equipment he could find
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When a sweatin' troop train lay
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In a sidin' through the day
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Where the heat would make you bloomin' eyebrows crawl
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We shouted, "Harry By"
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Till our throats were bricky-dry
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Then wopped him 'cause he couldn't serve us all
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He would dot an' carry one
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Till the longest day was done
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An' never seemed to know the use of fear
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If we charged or broke or cut
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You could bet your bloomin' nut
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He'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear
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With his mussick on his back
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He would skip to our attack
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An' watch us till the bugles made"Retire"
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An' for all his dirty hide
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He was white, clear white inside
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When he went to tend the wounded under fire
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It was Din, Din, Din
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With the bullets kickin' dust spots on the green
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And when the cartridges ran out
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You could hear the front files shout
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Send ammunition mules, and Gunga Din!
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I shan't forget the night
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When I fell behind the fight
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With a bullet where my belt plate should a' been
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I was chokin' mad with thirst
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An' the man that spied me first
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Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din
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He lifted up my head
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An' he plugged me where I bled
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An' he gave me half a pint of water green
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It was crawlin' and it stunk
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But of all the drinks I've drunk
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I'm most grateful to the one from Gunga Din
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He carried me away
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To where a dooli lay
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An' a bullet came and drilled the beggar clean
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He carried me inside
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An' just before he died
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I hope you like your drink said Gunga Din
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So I'll meet him later on
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In the place where he as gone
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Where it's always double drill and no canteen
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He'll be squattin' on the coals
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Givin' drink to poor damn souls
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I'll catch a swig in hell from Gunga Din
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It was Din, Din, Din
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You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din
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Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you
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By the livin' God that made you
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Your a better man than I am, Gunga Din
Jim Croce - Gunga Din
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