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bear beggars begin belts beneath better break bring called City clear comes dance dawn dead dear Death died drink drop dust Earth ere's eyes face fall fight Five four give Gods gold Government Gunga guns half hand head hear heart Hills hold Home horse hundred India it's Jemadar keep King knew land leave light live look loot Mandalay March never night pass peace plain play poor praised rain rest road rose serve side silver Simla sing smoke soldier soul story Street talked tell There's thing thought Till told Tommy tonga took trees true love turn village wait watched wheel Widow wife wind wonder young
Stran 15 - There were two men in one city ; the one rich, and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: but the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him...
Stran 88 - is dirty 'ide 'E was white, clear white, inside When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! It was 'Din! Din! Din!' With the bullets kickin
Stran 93 - eathen idol's foot; Bloomin' idol made o' mud — Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd — Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud! On the road to Mandalay . . . When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow, She'd git 'er little banjo an
Stran 63 - WE'VE fought with many men acrost the seas, An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not : The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese ; But the Fuzzy was the finest o
Stran 101 - If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight : So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier. Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . . When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Stran 255 - It's human, but is it Art?' The tale is as old as the Eden Tree — and new as the new-cut tooth — For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth; And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart, The Devil drum on the darkened pane: 'You did it, but was it Art?
Stran 3 - I have eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine ; The deaths ye died I have watched beside, And the lives ye led were mine. Was there aught that I did not share In vigil or toil or ease — One joy or woe that I did not know, Dear hearts across the seas...