Traditional - Revised & Arranged by - Jim Croce

You may talk of gin and beer

When you're stationed way out here

An' you're sent to penny fights an' Aldershot it

But when it comes to slaughter

You will do your work for water

An' you'll lick the boots of 'im that's got it

Now in Inja's sunny clime

Where I used to spend my time

Servin' her Majesty the Queen

Of all the black faced crew

The finest man I knew

Was regimental bhisti, Gunga Din



The uniform he wore

Was nothin' much before

An' rather less than half of that behind

But a piece of twisty rag

An' a goatskin water bag

Was all the field equipment he could find



When a sweatin' troop train lay

In a sidin' through the day

Where the heat would make you bloomin' eyebrows crawl

We shouted, "Harry By"

Till our throats were bricky-dry

Then wopped him 'cause he couldn't serve us all

He would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done

An' never seemed to know the use of fear

If we charged or broke or cut

You could bet your bloomin' nut

He'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear

With his mussick on his back

He would skip to our attack

An' watch us till the bugles made"Retire"

An' for all his dirty hide

He was white, clear white inside

When he went to tend the wounded under fire



It was Din, Din, Din

With the bullets kickin' dust spots on the green

And when the cartridges ran out

You could hear the front files shout

Send ammunition mules, and Gunga Din!

I shan't forget the night

When I fell behind the fight

With a bullet where my belt plate should a' been

I was chokin' mad with thirst

An' the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din

He lifted up my head

An' he plugged me where I bled

An' he gave me half a pint of water green

It was crawlin' and it stunk

But of all the drinks I've drunk

I'm most grateful to the one from Gunga Din



He carried me away

To where a dooli lay

An' a bullet came and drilled the beggar clean

He carried me inside

An' just before he died

I hope you like your drink said Gunga Din

So I'll meet him later on

In the place where he as gone

Where it's always double drill and no canteen

He'll be squattin' on the coals

Givin' drink to poor damn souls

I'll catch a swig in hell from Gunga Din



It was Din, Din, Din

You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din

Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you

By the livin' God that made you

Your a better man than I am, Gunga Din