- WENT into a public ‘ouse to get a pint o’beer,
- The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
- The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
- I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
- O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
- But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play,
- The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
- O it’s “Thank you, Mr. Atkins,” when the band begins to play.
- I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
- They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;
- They sent me to the gallery or round the music ‘alls,
- But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!
- For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
- But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,
- The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
- O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.
- Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
- Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
- An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
- Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.
- Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy how’s yer soul?”
- But it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,
- The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
- O it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.
- We aren’t no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
- But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
- An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints:
- Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;
- While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an “Tommy, fall be’ind,”
- But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind,
- There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
- O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.
- You talk o’ better food for us, an’schools, an’ fires an’ all:
- We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
- Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
- The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.
- For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
- But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country,” when the guns begin to shoot;
- Yes it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
- But Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool–you bet that Tommy sees!
- Rudyard Kipling (learn about him.)
