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Текст песни Jim Croce - Gunga Din

Jim Croce - Gunga Din слова песни




You may talk of gin and beerWhen you`re stationed way out hereAn` you`re sent to penny fights an` Aldershot itBut when it comes to slaughterYou will do your work for waterAn` you`ll lick the boots of `im that`s got itNow in Inja`s sunny climeWhere I used to spend my timeServin` her Majesty the QueenOf all the black faced crewThe finest man I knewWas regimental bhisti, Gunga DinThe uniform he woreWas nothin` much beforeAn` rather less than half of that behindBut a piece of twisty ragAn` a goatskin water bagWas all the field equipment he could findWhen a sweatin` troop train layIn a sidin` through the dayWhere the heat would make you bloomin` eyebrows crawlWe shouted, "Harry By"Till our throats were bricky-dryThen wopped him `cause he couldn`t serve us allHe would dot an` carry oneTill the longest day was doneAn` never seemed to know the use of fearIf we charged or broke or cutYou could bet your bloomin` nutHe`d be waitin` fifty paces right flank rearWith his mussick on his backHe would skip to our attackAn` watch us till the bugles made"Retire"An` for all his dirty hideHe was white, clear white insideWhen he went to tend the wounded under fireIt was Din, Din, DinWith the bullets kickin` dust spots on the greenAnd when the cartridges ran outYou could hear the front files shoutSend ammunition mules, and Gunga Din!I shan`t forget the nightWhen I fell behind the fightWith a bullet where my belt plate should a` beenI was chokin` mad with thirstAn` the man that spied me firstWas our good old grinnin`, gruntin` Gunga DinHe lifted up my headAn` he plugged me where I bledAn` he gave me half a pint of water greenIt was crawlin` and it stunkBut of all the drinks I`ve drunkI`m most grateful to the one from Gunga DinHe carried me awayTo where a dooli layAn` a bullet came and drilled the beggar cleanHe carried me insideAn` just before he diedI hope you like your drink said Gunga DinSo I`ll meet him later onIn the place where he as goneWhere it`s always double drill and no canteenHe`ll be squattin` on the coalsGivin` drink to poor damn soulsI`ll catch a swig in hell from Gunga DinIt was Din, Din, DinYou Lazarushian-leather Gunga DinTho` I`ve belted you an` flayed youBy the livin` God that made youYour a better man than I am, Gunga Din

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