dots-menu
×

Home  »  Rudyard Kipling’s Verse  »  A Ballad of Burial

Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.

A Ballad of Burial

“Saint Praxed’s ever was the Church for peace.”

IF down here I chance to die,

Solemnly I beg you take

All that is left of “I”

To the Hills for old sake’s sake.

Pack me very thoroughly

In the ice that used to slake

Pegs I drank when I was dry—

This observe for old sake’s sake.

To the railway station hie,

There a single ticket take

For Umballa—goods-train—I

Shall not mind delay or shake.

I shall rest contentedly

Spite of clamour coolies make;

Thus in state and dignity

Send me up for old sake’s sake.

Next the sleepy Babu wake,

Book a Kalka van “for four.”

Few, I think, will care to make

Journeys with me any more

As they used to do of yore.

I shall need a “special brake”—

’Thing I never took before—

Get me one for old sake’s sake.

After that—arrangements make.

No hotel will take me in,

And a bullock’s back would break

’Neath the teak and leaden skin.

Tonga-ropes are frail and thin,

Or, did I a back-seat take,

In a tonga I might spin,—

Do your best for old sake’s sake.

After that—your work is done.

Recollect a Padre must

Mourn the dear departed one—

Throw the ashes and the dust.

Don’t go down at once. I trust

You will find excuse to “snake

Three days’ casual on the bust,”—

Get your fun for old sake’s sake.

I could never stand the Plains.

Think of blazing June and May,

Think of those September rains

Yearly till the Judgment Day!

I should never rest in peace,

I should sweat and lie awake.

Rail me then, on my decease,

To the Hills of old sake’s sake!