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Kipling Re-visited

#1
Currently circulating on the net :

Tommy (with apologies to Kipling)
Written by Patrick Campbell RM

They flew me 'ome from Baghdad with a bullet in me chest.
Cos they've closed the army 'ospitals, I'm in the NHS.
The nurse, she ain't no Britisher an' so she ain't impressed.
It's like I'm some street corner thug who's come off second best.
Yes, it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "You're not welcome 'ere".
But when Saddam was collar'd, they was quick enough to cheer.

They're proud when Tommy Atkins 'olds the thin red line out there,
But now he's wounded back at 'ome, he has to wait for care.
Some stranger in the next bed sez, "Don't you feel no shame?
You kill my Muslim brothers!" So it's me not 'im to blame!
An' then the cleaner ups an' sez "Who are you fightin' for?
It ain't for Queen and country 'cos it's Bush's bloody war!"
It's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, what's that smell?"
But it's "God go with you, Tommy," when they fly us out to 'ell.

O then we're just like 'eroes from the army's glorious past.
Yes, it's "God go with you, Tommy," when the trip might be your last.
They pays us skivvy wages, never mind we're sitting ducks,
When clerks what's pushing pens at 'ome don't know their flippin' luck.
"Ah, yes" sez they "but think of all the travel to be 'ad."
Pull the other one. Does Cooks do 'olidays in Baghdad ?
It's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, know your place,"
But it's "Tommy, take the front seat," when there's terrorists to chase.

An' the town is full of maniacs who'd like you dead toot sweet.
Yes, it's "Thank you, Mr Atkins," when they find you in the street.
There's s'posed to be a covynant to treat us fair an' square
But I 'ad to buy me army boots, an' me combats is threadbare.
An' 'alf the bloody 'elicopters can't get into the air,
An' me pistol jammed when snipers fired. That's why I'm laid up 'ere.
Yes, it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, "We 'ave to watch the pence";
Bold as brass the P.M. sez, "We spare them no expense."

"But I'll tell you when they do us proud an' pull out all the stops,
It's when Tommy lands at Lyneham in a bloomin' wooden box!
 
#3
On a cold winter's night in Belfast, somebody wasn't shot.

But they did happen to mention that this has already been done.

To death and back again. :roll:
 
#6
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!


I hope to God that this Kipling quote does not become current. Well written cover of the original , this should be sent to the press for greater distribution, if it has not already.
 
#8
Jesus f ucking Christ, not again?
This poem is one of,if not the most vomit inducing peices of utter shite that I have ever read.
 
#11
Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart,

Some bastards gone and stole my cart,

I don't care if I don't get there,

Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart.

Poem, by a pissed up Welsh squaddie c1981, recited very loudly to tumultuous applause somewhere in West Germany.
 
#12
LancePrivateJones said:
Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart,

Some bastards gone and stole my cart,

I don't care if I don't get there,

Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart.

Poem, by a pissed up Welsh squaddie c1981, recited very loudly to tumultuous applause somewhere in West Germany.
It's a bit dusty in here.

The bloody cart must have brought it in.
 
#13
mistersoft said:
LancePrivateJones said:
Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart,

Some bastards gone and stole my cart,

I don't care if I don't get there,

Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart.

Poem, by a pissed up Welsh squaddie c1981, recited very loudly to tumultuous applause somewhere in West Germany.
It's a bit dusty in here.

The bloody cart must have brought it in.
Was it this cart? :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grbSQ6O6kbs&feature=fvst
 
#14
Gungythree said:
mistersoft said:
LancePrivateJones said:
Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart,

Some bastards gone and stole my cart,

I don't care if I don't get there,

Shit bollocks ********* piss fuck fart.

Poem, by a pissed up Welsh squaddie c1981, recited very loudly to tumultuous applause somewhere in West Germany.
It's a bit dusty in here.

The bloody cart must have brought it in.
Was it this cart? :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grbSQ6O6kbs&feature=fvst
That's the one. :lol:

All those bodies and nobody got shot. :roll:
 

Legs

ADC
Book Reviewer
#15
batfink said:
Why did I look at this thread???

oh well, not long till xmas poetry crawls out of the woodwork.
Too late! From this thread...

Legs said:
jarrod248 said:
Legs said:
saintstone said:
jarrod248 said:
Soon be Christmas!
Oh, I can't wait for the Christmas poem, it's my fave, honest it is 8O
Oh, I LOVE that poem....
It will be here before you know it and we'll all be shedding a tear again after a sweet sherry and a mince pie.
I though I'd get it in first, just for you and your tears....
[align=center]
:santa: Twas the Night Before Christmas Soldier's Story :santa:


TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."


:boogie: :bow: :boogie: :bow: :boogie:[/align]
 
#16
Here's one I did earlier:

[align=center]THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before Christmas and getting quite late
I’d locked up the tool shed and padlocked the gate;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Her skirt, bra and g-string were hanging elsewhere;

The brat was excited and had just swamped his bed,
If he does it again he’ll sleep in the shed;

The missus was snoring and still full of coke,
I tried not to wake her as I gave her a poke,

When out on the patio there arose such a din,
I pulled out the missus and stepped in the bin.

I ran to the window as quick as I could,
I finished without her, God that feels good.

I looked at the garden way down below
And cursed Yahoo weather who hadn’t said snow,

Now was it the wine or was it the beer,
But there was a sleigh and some manky old deer,

The camera was running and then I hit pause,
Well bugger me sideways I’ve taped Santa Claus.

It wasn’t that simple, he was moving so fast,
And not all that easy when your batteries don’t last;

He talked to the reindeer but always the same
It started me thinking he’s forgotten their names

A Santa with Alzheimer’s now that’s a surprise
Now will he remember to eat those mince pies?

And will those tablets mix with the drink
Or make him squitter and puke in the sink,

He was flying so high I made me a wish,
That he’d miss both my aerials and satellite dish.

He landed quite heavily breaking my tiles
And sent them tumbling downwards in piles

Not having a chimney he knew what to do,
He located my gas fire and came in the flue.

It was quite a struggle but didn’t hurt a bit,
His clothes were all bogging and covered in shit;

I pulled up a rug and told him “Stay here”,
Or he’d ruin the carpet we’d bought from Ikea.

And now what he looked like, for words I could hunt
Or to cut to the chase, a silly old cnut

His lips were bright red and he obviously used gloss,
He smeared some more on and didn’t give a toss;

His hard little mouth made him look mellow,
But because of the nicotine his beard was all yellow;

His pipe burned fiercely and I knew it was Drum,
He smoked like a trooper while sat on his bum;

He had a fat face and a wobbly round belly,
He farted profusely and by fcuk was it smelly.

His eyes were quite striking, the fire had not died
They were both on his head and one either side;

He gave me a wink and I’m glad I can spell,
I’m just not that sort but you never can tell;

He spoke not a word; I thought he was dumb,
But farting again he talked out his bum,

He dumped all the pressies, I could see mine
Seconds and rejects and end of the line

His work was all done and he gave me a smile
I said come back soon but not for a while;

He jumped on the sleigh, breaking more tiles,
Adjusted the cushion as he suffered from piles.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

I knew it would happen and I watched in dismay
The aerials and dish were right in his way

I went down to the kitchen and made me some char
Tomorrow I’ll be watching my old VCR

If I never see Santa then that will be fine
Next time I do, I’ll call 999 [/align]
 
#20
smartascarrots said:
mistersoft said:
All those bodies and nobody got shot. :roll:
But you can clearly tell from the video that it wasn't a cold winters night.

Did look a bit like a Belfast street, though...
Good point. Though the dead could of course have been left over from the previous night and while not strictly winter, the weather that night was somewhat inclement.

But it did look vaguely like a Belfast street. My money's on Rathcoole, the posher bit.
 

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