An adaption of this poem was written by a British soldier fighting in Afghanistan as part of the US/UK invasion a few years ago. It's quite good, copied out below if you want to read: When you’re lying alone in your Afghan bivvy, And your life it depends on some MOD civvie When the body armour’s shared (one set between three), And the firefight’s not like it is on TV, Then you’ll look to your oppo, your gun and your God, As you follow that path all Tommies have trod. When the gimpy has jammed and you’re down to one round, And the faith that you’d lost is suddenly found. When the Taliban horde is close up to the fort, And you pray that the arty don’t drop a round short. Stick to your sergeant like a good squaddie should, And fight them like satan or one of his brood Your pay it won’t cover your needs or your wants, So just stand there and take all the Taliban’s taunts Nor generals nor civvies can do aught to amend it, Except make sure you’re kept in a place you can’t spend it. Three fifty an hour in your Afghani cage, Not nearly as much as the minimum wage. Your missus at home in a foul married quarter With damp on the walls and a roof leaking water Your kids miss their mate, their hero, their dad; They’re missing the childhood that they should have had One day it will be different, one day by and by, As you all stand there and watch, to see the pigs fly Just like your forebears in mud, dust and ditch You’ll march and you’ll fight, and you’ll drink and you’ll bitch Whether Froggy or Zulu, or Jerry, or Boer The Brits will fight on ‘til the battle is over. You may treat him like dirt, but nowt will unnerve him But I wonder sometimes, if the country deserves him.
Finally a decent rendition of this absolute classic. I'm currently a SNCO in the British Army. I have serve some twenty years now and the parallels between this poem and the advice I give to my young soldiers (whether they want to hear it or not!) are uncanny!
staceylover77 it just goes to show that the more things change, the more they stay the same. I bet some centurion was saying much the same things to the soldiers under his command in the Roman times
@@connormclernon26Funnily enough, Kipling said that too We tell these tales, which are strictest true, Just by way of convincing you How very little, since things was made, Anything alters in any one’s trade !
@@AnnaTheCymro1914 taking the lords name in vain is more like paying lip service... people who say they are good cristians who follow jesus and the word of god, but whose actions contradict that. Joel osteen is a great example. Blasphemy is blasphemy, something else entirely
Yea, when you're not fighting folks who abide by the laws of warfare, it's good advice for anyone less than devout. Death isn't the worse thing out there, not by a stretch.
This for Rembrance Day a great poem by Rudyard Kipling that made into song 🎵 it sad about it better to blow out your brains 🧠 than be captured by Afghans especially than women
The Young British Soldier When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, So-oldier OF the Queen! Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: A soldier what's fit for a soldier. Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . . First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts -- Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts -- An' it's bad for the young British soldier. Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . . When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt -- Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, An' it crumples the young British soldier. Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . . But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . . If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; Be handy and civil, and then you will find That it's beer for the young British soldier. Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . . Now, if you must marry, take care she is old -- A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . . If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! -- Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . . When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck And march to your front like a soldier. Front, front, front like a soldier . . . When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich, An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . . When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, For noise never startles the soldier. Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . . If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier. Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . . 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!
An adaption of this poem was written by a British soldier fighting in Afghanistan as part of the US/UK invasion a few years ago. It's quite good, copied out below if you want to read:
When you’re lying alone in your Afghan bivvy,
And your life it depends on some MOD civvie
When the body armour’s shared (one set between three),
And the firefight’s not like it is on TV,
Then you’ll look to your oppo, your gun and your God,
As you follow that path all Tommies have trod.
When the gimpy has jammed and you’re down to one round,
And the faith that you’d lost is suddenly found.
When the Taliban horde is close up to the fort,
And you pray that the arty don’t drop a round short.
Stick to your sergeant like a good squaddie should,
And fight them like satan or one of his brood
Your pay it won’t cover your needs or your wants,
So just stand there and take all the Taliban’s taunts
Nor generals nor civvies can do aught to amend it,
Except make sure you’re kept in a place you can’t spend it.
Three fifty an hour in your Afghani cage,
Not nearly as much as the minimum wage.
Your missus at home in a foul married quarter
With damp on the walls and a roof leaking water
Your kids miss their mate, their hero, their dad;
They’re missing the childhood that they should have had
One day it will be different, one day by and by,
As you all stand there and watch, to see the pigs fly
Just like your forebears in mud, dust and ditch
You’ll march and you’ll fight, and you’ll drink and you’ll bitch
Whether Froggy or Zulu, or Jerry, or Boer
The Brits will fight on ‘til the battle is over.
You may treat him like dirt, but nowt will unnerve him
But I wonder sometimes, if the country deserves him.
Finally a decent rendition of this absolute classic.
I'm currently a SNCO in the British Army. I have serve some twenty years now and the parallels between this poem and the advice I give to my young soldiers (whether they want to hear it or not!) are uncanny!
staceylover77 it just goes to show that the more things change, the more they stay the same. I bet some centurion was saying much the same things to the soldiers under his command in the Roman times
@@connormclernon26Funnily enough, Kipling said that too
We tell these tales, which are strictest true,
Just by way of convincing you
How very little, since things was made,
Anything alters in any one’s trade !
That last verse though. God damn.
They put it in the punisher tv series my army buddies and I always quote it
Yes though I wouldn’t damn anything or use the lords name in vain.....
@@AnnaTheCymro1914 taking the lords name in vain is more like paying lip service... people who say they are good cristians who follow jesus and the word of god, but whose actions contradict that. Joel osteen is a great example.
Blasphemy is blasphemy, something else entirely
Every bloody word is true! A proud soldier of the Queen, gawd blessA
Yea, when you're not fighting folks who abide by the laws of warfare, it's good advice for anyone less than devout. Death isn't the worse thing out there, not by a stretch.
SO MANY THANKS FOR THIS & YOUR CHANNEL!!! GOOD ADVICE FOR ALL TOMMIES & HONOR TO SOLDIERS EVERYWHERE IN EVERY ERA!!!
My degree in English Lit indicates this is how Kipling intended this poem to be rendered.
Kipling himself said, that his works cannot be fully appreciated if they are not sung by the person trying to enjoy them.
This for Rembrance Day a great poem by Rudyard Kipling that made into song 🎵 it sad about it better to blow out your brains 🧠 than be captured by Afghans especially than women
The Young British Soldier
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, So-oldier OF the Queen! Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay, An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may: A soldier what's fit for a soldier. Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . . First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts -- Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts -- An' it's bad for the young British soldier. Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . . When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt -- Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out, An' it crumples the young British soldier. Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . . But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead: You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said: If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead, An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . . If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind; Be handy and civil, and then you will find That it's beer for the young British soldier. Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . . Now, if you must marry, take care she is old -- A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, Nor love ain't enough for a soldier. 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . . If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! -- Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both, An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier. Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . . When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck, Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck, Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck And march to your front like a soldier. Front, front, front like a soldier . . . When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch; She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich, An' she'll fight for the young British soldier. Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . . When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine, The guns o' the enemy wheel into line, Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine, For noise never startles the soldier. Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . . If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white, Remember it's ruin to run from a fight: So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, And wait for supports like a soldier. Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . . 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!