A   D

[Verse 1]
D
You may talk o' gin and beer
G
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
           D                             A
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
    D
But when it comes to slaughter
         G
You will do your work on water,
           A                                     D
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
       G
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
  D
I used to spend my time
D                                A
All a-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
   D
Of all them blackfaced crew
    G
The finest man I knew
        A                        D
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
        G    G    G
He was “Din! Din! Din!
G           D
You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
D
Hi! slippery hitherao!
       G
Water, get it! Panee lao!
    A                             D
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”

[Instrumental]
A   D

[Verse 2]
D
The uniform 'e wore
    G
Was nothin' much before,
    D                               A
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
    D
For a piece o' twisty rag
    G
An' a goatskin water-bag
    A                                D
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
         G
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
     D
In a sidin' through the day,
D                                                A
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
   D
We shouted “Harry By!”
     G
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
        A                                      D
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
        G    G    G
It was “Din! Din! Din!
G    D
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
D
You put some juldee in it
G
Or I'll marrow you this minute
       A                              D
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!”

[Verse 3]
D
'E would dot an' carry one
     G
Till the longest day was done;
       D                              A
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
      D
If we charged or broke or cut,
          G
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
        A                               D
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
         G
With 'is mussick on 'is back,
         D
'E would skip with our attack,
D                                       A
An' he'd watch us till the bugles made “Retire”,
        D
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
       G
'E was white, clear white, inside
        A                              D
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
        G    G    G
It was “Din! Din! Din!”
G                D
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
D
When the cartridges ran out,
          G
You could hear the front-files shout,
     A                          D
“Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!”

[Instrumental]
A   D

[Verse 4]
D
I shan't forgit the night
       G
When I dropped be'ind the fight
       D                                     A
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
      D
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
        G
An' the man that spied me first
        A                                 D
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
   G
'E lifted up my 'ead,
       D
An' he plugged me where I bled,
D                                  A
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
       D
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
       G
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
    A                              D
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
        G    G    G
It was “Din! Din! Din!
G               D
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
     D
'E's chawin' up the ground,
     G
'E's kickin' all around:
    A                                D
For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!”

[Verse 5]
D
'E carried me away
   G
To where a dooli lay,
      D                                  A
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
   D
'E put me safe inside,
    G
An' just before 'e died,
    A                                    D
“I 'ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din.
        G
So I'll meet 'im later on
       D
At the place where 'e is gone--
      D                               A
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
         D
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
       G
Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
         A                             D
An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
     G    G    G
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
G       D
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
            D
Though I've belted you and flayed you,
       G
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
         A                           D
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!