Читать книгу Barrack Room Ballads - Rudyard Kipling - Страница 2

   “What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

   “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “I’m dreadin’ what I’ve got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

       For they’re hangin’ Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,

       The regiment’s in ‘ollow square – they’re hangin’ him to-day;

       They’ve taken of his buttons off an’ cut his stripes away,

       An’ they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.

   “What makes the rear-rank breathe so ‘ard?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “It’s bitter cold, it’s bitter cold”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

   “What makes that front-rank man fall down?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “A touch o’ sun, a touch o’ sun”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

       They are hangin’ Danny Deever, they are marchin’ of ‘im round,

       They ‘ave ‘alted Danny Deever by ‘is coffin on the ground;

       An’ ‘e’ll swing in ‘arf a minute for a sneakin’ shootin’ hound —

       O they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’!

   “‘Is cot was right-’and cot to mine”, said Files-on-Parade.

   “‘E’s sleepin’ out an’ far to-night”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

   “I’ve drunk ‘is beer a score o’ times”, said Files-on-Parade.

   “‘E’s drinkin’ bitter beer alone”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

       They are hangin’ Danny Deever, you must mark ‘im to ‘is place,

       For ‘e shot a comrade sleepin’ – you must look ‘im in the face;

       Nine ‘undred of ‘is county an’ the regiment’s disgrace,

       While they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.

   “What’s that so black agin’ the sun?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “It’s Danny fightin’ ‘ard for life”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

   “What’s that that whimpers over’ead?” said Files-on-Parade.

   “It’s Danny’s soul that’s passin’ now”, the Colour-Sergeant said.

       For they’re done with Danny Deever, you can ‘ear the quickstep play,

       The regiment’s in column, an’ they’re marchin’ us away;

       Ho! the young recruits are shakin’, an’ they’ll want their beer to-day,

       After hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.