Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
Follow Me Ome
T
Nor any o’ the Guns I knew;
An’ because it was so, why, o’ course ’e went an’ died,
Which is just what the best men do.
An’ it’s finish up your swipes an’ follow me!
Oh, ’ark to the big drum callin’,
Follow me—follow me ’ome!
She paws the ’ole night through,
An’ she won’t take ’er feed ’cause o’ waitin’ for ’is step,
Which is just what a beast would do.
Before ’er month is through;
An’ the banns are up in church, for she’s got the beggar hooked,
Which is just what a girl would do.
No more than a round or two;
But I strook ’im cruel ’ard, an’ I wish I ’adn’t now,
Which is just what a man can’t do.
An’ I’ve ’ad to find one new;
But I’d give my pay an’ stripe for to get the beggar back,
Which it’s just too late to do.
An’ it’s finish up your swipes an’ follow me!
Oh, ’ark to the fifes a-crawlin’!
Follow me—follow me ’ome!
Take ’im away! An’ the gun-wheels turnin’ slow.
Take ’im away! There’s more from the place ’e come.
Take ’im away, with the limber an’ the drum.
An’ it’s “Thirteen rank” an’ follow me;
Oh, passin’ the love o’ women,
Follow me—follow me ’ome!