An’ the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.
’E lifted up my head,
An’ ’e plugged me where I bled,
An’ ’e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water green:
It was crawlin’ and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,
I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was “Din! Din! Din!
’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through his spleen;