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!
by Kipling
ST UnWoked & UnVaxxed! 
Not my work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our Pentagon also has a lot to answer for. This is not all my fault as have been out of uniform for a decade.
LikeLiked by 2 people
And even when you were in uniform, you offered credible solutions.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes ma’am.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I called it ‘FAO – Lite’ and regardless of how some have mischaracterized my concept, it was not nation building. Its implementation would make America exponentially more powerful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
True dat, it was ‘nation-birthing’/midwifery, using their structures, not imposing ours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
…credible and implemented in India, Mongolia, and Peru to name just a few.
LikeLike
Kipling hit the nail on the head here; he not only spoke for his “Tommies”, he still speaks for GI Joe and GI Jane, and “Grunts” in Kabul today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No GI Jane could ever be a Tommy or a ‘digger’ for that matter.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed so.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Point taken, but they were there – and some do bear the signs of service – seen and unseen.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Whose fault is that?
LikeLiked by 1 person
No one’s….Their choice, in support roles, yes? But the brass sure didn’t listen to voices, including women Marines, saying: “Slow roll/stop this.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
I always thought this poem might’ve been written after WWI. Kipling lost his son in that war. But it was written in 1890.
It makes me think of my two favorite Tommies ever: Danny and Peachy in Kipling’s story “The Man Who Would Be King”.
(And Simon, as always: Thank you, Mr. Atkins!)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hyp, “Plain Tales from the Hills” paints vivid pictures, too, and is a favorite. “My Boy Jack”, written in 1916 to honor a young, posthumous recipient of the Victoria Cross, surely references his own son indirectly.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m sure you know “Gethsemane”…😢
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m glad the book is digital; otherwise, I’d have worn it out.
LikeLike