Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
A Ballad of Burial
I
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!