Army songs and poems

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#1

Something in another thread reminded me of a song we used to sing, and then bits of others came to mind.

There are some great, if ribald, military songs and poems. But I can remember only snatches (no pun intended) of them.

Such as

and the hairs on her dicky di do hung down to her knees
one green one, one red one, and … ???

And

Rhoda … … pagoda

And the walls of the halls were lined with the balls
And the tools of the fools who had …

Something to do with Rhoda

And

In and out went the tool of steel
Round and round went the great big wheel …

Can anyone complete these, or add others from various nations?

Google did find this useful resource which gives one version of some of the ones I have snippets of
http://www.harborne-rugby.com/Harborne%20Song%20Book.doc

#2

I can complete the first and last off the top of my head - songs learnt at my mother’s knee and other low joints.
For the second one I’d have to set the ‘leettle grey cells’ in motion, but I’m sure it’d come.

Possibly best done in PM. :smiley:

#3

Gunga Din

You may talk o’ gin and beer
When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.
Now in Injia’s sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin’ of ‘Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was "Din! Din! Din!
"You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!
"Hi! Slippy hitherao!
"Water, get it! Panee lao
“You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”

I used to know a barrackroom version of this, but, sadly, as the years become shorter, sodoes the memory. Does anyone know it?
This is the fianl verse of Kipling’s version:

‘E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.
‘E put me safe inside,
An’ just before ‘e died,
“I 'ope you liked your drink” sez Gunga Din.
So I’ll meet ‘im later on
At the place where ‘e is gone
Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.
‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,
An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,
By the livin’ Gawd that made you,
You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!