Bombardier
20-02-04, 18:33
The army's performance on campaign has often encouraged those who were critical of its peacetime habits to applaud its wartime achievements. Part of the problem stems from the fact that until the world wars many of those who wrote about the soldier, in poetry or in prose, had little contact with him and so judged him by superficialities: he was a hero in battle, a nuisance in barracks. Rudyard Kipling was educated in England but spent his early career as a journalist in India, where he often talked to British soldiers and found that they were far more complex than the usual literary clichés suggested. His poem 'Tommy', one of his Barrack-Room Ballads (1892), expresses the soldier's contempt for a society which scorns him until there is fighting to be done. It goes straight to the heart of the ambivalent relationship between Britain and her army. The 'widow' in the poem is Queen Victoria.
POEM
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint of beer, The publican 'e ups and sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fir to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 'a' "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, Mister 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?
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; An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool ? you bet that Tommy sees!
Rudyard Kipling's Verse, Inclusive Edition
1885-1932
POEM
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint of beer, The publican 'e ups and sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fir to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 'a' "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, Mister 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?
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; An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please; An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool ? you bet that Tommy sees!
Rudyard Kipling's Verse, Inclusive Edition
1885-1932