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Danny Deever. Rudyard Kipling

"What are the bugles blowin′ for?" said Files-on-Parade.
"To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
"I′m dreadin′ what I′ve got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 For they′re hangin′ Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
 The Regiment′s in ′ollow square, they′re hangin′ him to-day;
 They′ve taken of his buttons off an′ cut his stripes away,
 An′ they′re hangin′ Danny Deever in the mornin′.
 
"What makes the rear-rank breathe so ′ard?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It′s bitter cold, it′s bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade.
"A touch o′ sun, a touch o′ sun", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 They are hangin′ Danny Deever, they are marchin′ of ′im round,
 They ′ave ′alted Danny Deever by ′is coffin on the ground;
 An′ ′e′ll swing in ′arf a minute for a sneakin′ shootin′ hound,
 O they′re hangin′ Danny Deever in the mornin′!
 
"′Is cot was right-′and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade.
"′E′s sleepin′ out an′ far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"I′ve drunk ′is beer a score o′ times", said Files-on-Parade.
"′E′s drinkin′ bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 They are hangin′ Danny Deever, you must mark ′im to ′is place,
 For ′e shot a comrade sleepin′, you must look ′im in the face;
 Nine ′undred of ′is county an′ the Regiment′s disgrace,
 While they′re hangin′ Danny Deever in the mornin′.
 
"What′s that so black agin′ the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It′s Danny fightin′ ′ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What′s that that whimpers over′ead?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It′s Danny′s soul that′s passin′ now", the Colour-Sergeant said.
 For they′re done with Danny Deever, you can ′ear the quickstep play,
 The Regiment′s in column, an′ they′re marchin′ us away;
 Ho! the young recruits are shakin′, an′ they′ll want their beer to-day,
 After hangin′ Danny Deever in the mornin′.

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