From: YUIYUIYUIYUI@GHGHGASAEWFWESF.VUO   
      
    We're - the usual suspects - celebrating Kipling's 140th birthday today.   
   It's not actually till New   
   Year's Eve but that's not good for diaries.   
      
   So, this'll be one of the many reasons Orwell admired him:   
      
      
   Chant-Pagan   
      
   (English Irregular, discharged)   
      
      
      
   Me that 'ave been what I've been -   
   Me that 'ave gone where I've gone -   
   Me that 'ave seen what I've seen -   
   'Ow can I ever take on   
   With awful old England again,   
   An' 'ouses both sides of the street,   
   And 'edges two sides of the lane,   
   And the parson an' gentry between,   
   An' touchin' my 'at when we meet -   
   Me that 'ave been what I've been?   
      
   Me that 'ave watched 'arf a world   
   'Eave up all shiny with dew,   
   Kopje on kop to the sun,   
   An' as soon as the mist let 'em through   
   Our 'elios winkin' like fun -   
   Three sides of a ninety-mile square,   
   Over valleys as big as a shire -   
   "Are ye there? Are ye there? Are ye there?"   
   An' then the blind drum of our fire . . .   
   An' I'm rollin' 'is lawns for the Squire,   
      
   Me!   
      
      
      
   Me that 'ave rode through the dark   
   Forty mile, often, on end,   
   Along the Ma'ollisberg Range,   
   With only the stars for my mark   
   An' only the night for my friend,   
   An' things runnin' off as you pass,   
   An' things jumpin' up in the grass,   
   An' the silence, the shine an' the size   
   Of the 'igh, unexpressible skies -   
   I am takin' some letters almost   
   As much as a mile to the post,   
   An' "mind you come back with the change!"   
      
   Me!   
      
      
      
   Me that saw Barberton took   
   When we dropped through the clouds on their 'ead,   
   An' they 'ove the guns over and fled -   
   Me that was through Di'mond I'll,   
   An' Pieters an' Springs an' Belfast -   
   From Dundee to Vereeniging all -   
   Me that stuck out to the last   
   (An' five bloomin' bars on my chest) -   
   I am doin' my Sunday-school best,   
   By the 'elp of the Squire an' 'is wife   
   (Not to mention the 'ousemaid an' cook),   
   To come in an' 'ands up an' be still,   
   An' honestly work for my bread,   
   My livin' in that state of life   
   To which it shall please God to call   
      
   Me!   
      
      
      
   Me that 'ave followed my trade   
   In the place where the Lightnin's are made;   
   "Twixt the Rains and the Sun and the Moon -   
   Me that lay down an' got up   
   Three years with the sky for my roof -   
   That 'ave ridden my 'unger an' thirst   
   Six thousand raw mile on the hoof,   
   With the Vaal and the Orange for cup,   
   An' the Brandwater Basin for dish, -   
   Oh! it's 'ard to be'ave as they wish   
   (Too 'ard, an' a little too soon),   
   I'll 'ave to think over it first -   
      
   Me!   
      
      
      
   I will arise an' get 'ence -   
   I will trek South and make sure   
   If it's only my fancy or not   
   That the sunshine of England is pale,   
   And the breezes of England are stale,   
   An' there's something' gone small with the lot.   
   For I know of a sun an' a wind,   
   An' some plains and a mountain be'ind,   
   An' some graves by a barb-wire fence,   
   An' a Dutchman I've fought 'oo might give   
   Me a job where I ever inclined   
   To look in an' offsaddle an' live   
   Where there's neither a road nor a tree -   
   But only my Maker an' me,   
   An I think it will kill me or cure,   
   So I think I will go there an' see.   
      
   Me!   
      
   Rudyard Kipling.   
      
   c/o   
      
   ROBBIE   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)