Poem by Rudyard Kipling

«Barrack-Room Ballads». 11. Loot

If you’ve ever stole a pheasant-egg
                              be’ind the keeper’s back,
 	If you’ve ever snigged 
                              the washin’ from the line,
If you’ve ever crammed a gander 
                              in your bloomin’ ’aversack,
 	You will understand 
                              this little song o’ mine.
But the service rules are ’ard, 
                              an’ from such we are debarred,
 	For the same with English morals does not suit.
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!)
Why, they call a man a robber 
                              if ’e stuffs ’is marchin’ clobber
 	With the –
(Chorus)  Loo! loo!  Lulu! lulu!  Loo! loo!  Loot! loot! loot!
               	Ow the loot!
               	Bloomin’ loot!
            That’s the thing to make the boys git up an’ shoot!
             	It’s the same with dogs an’ men,
             	If you’d make ’em come again
            Clap ’em forward with a Loo! 
                              loo! Lulu! Loot!
    (ff)  Whoopee!  Tear ’im, puppy!  
                              Loo! loo! Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!
 
If you’ve knocked a nigger edgeways 
                              when ’e’s thrustin’ for your life,
 	You must leave ’im very careful 
                              where ’e fell;
An’ may thank your stars an’ gaiters
                              if you didn’t feel ’is knife
 	That you ain’t told off 
                              to bury ’im as well.
Then the sweatin’ Tommies wonder 
                              as they spade the beggars under
 	Why lootin’ should be entered as a crime;
So if my song you’ll ’ear, 
                              I will learn you plain an’ clear
 	‘’Ow to pay yourself for fightin’ overtime.
(Chorus)  With the loot, . . .
 
Now remember when you’re ’acking 
                              round a gilded Burma god
 	That ’is eyes is very often                               
                              precious stones;
An’ if you treat a nigger 
                              to a dose o’ cleanin’-rod
 	’E’s like to show you 
                              everything ’e owns.
When ’e won’t prodooce no more, 
                              pour some water on the floor
 	Where you ’ear it answer ’ollow to the boot
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) –
When the ground begins to sink, 
                              shove your baynick down the chink,
 	An’ you’re sure to touch the –
(Chorus)  Loo! loo!  Lulu!   Loot! loot! loot!
               	Ow the loot! . . .
 
When from ’ouse to ’ouse you’re ’unting, 
                              you must always work in pairs –
 	It ’alves the gain,
                              but safer you will find –
For a single man gets bottled 
                              on them twisty-wisty stairs,
 	An’ a woman comes 
                              and clobs ’im from be’ind.
When you’ve turned ’em inside out, 
                              an’ it seems beyond a doubt
 	As if there weren’t enough to dust a flute
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) –
Before you sling your ’ook, 
                              at the ’ousetops take a look,
 	For it’s underneath the tiles they ’ide the loot.
(Chorus)  Ow the loot! . . .
 
You can mostly square a Sergint 
                              an’ a Quartermaster too,
 	If you only take 
                              the proper way to go;
I could never keep my pickin’s, 
                              but I’ve learned you all I knew –
 	An’ don’t you never say 
                              I told you so.
An’ now I’ll bid good-bye, for 
                              I’m gettin’ rather dry,
 	An’ I see another tunin’ up to toot
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) –
So ’ere’s good-luck to those
                              that wears the Widow’s clo’es,
 	An’ the Devil send ’em all they want o’ loot!
(Chorus)     Yes, the loot,
               				Bloomin’ loot!
            In the tunic an’ the mess-tin an’ the boot!
             	It’s the same with dogs an’ men,
             	If you’d make ’em come again
   (fff)  Whoop ’em forward with a Loo! 
                              loo!  Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!
            Heeya!  Sick ’im, puppy!  
                              Loo! loo!  Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!

1. The First Chantey
2. The Cursing of Stephen
3. Anchor Song
4. The Covenant
5. «Limits and Renewals». 1932. 19. Azrael's Count

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