ANDOR _ BOOTS by Rudyard Kipling

Mr. Rudyard Kipling's famous poem, entitled Boots, those of us who have never been engaged in actual warfare have very little idea of some of its worst horrors. One of the most terrible being the agonized impressions made upon the minds of the infantry soldiers during the long horse marches. Soldiers have been known to go absolutely insane with the everlasting sight of marching feet all around them. We have foot, slug, slug, slug, slugging over Africa. Foot, foot, foot, foot, slugging over Africa. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. Seven, six, eleven, five, nine and twenty miles a day. Four, eleven, seventeen, thirty to the day before. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. Don't, don't, don't, don't look at what's in front of you. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. Men, men, men, men, men go mad with Washington. There's no discharge in the war. Count, count, count, count the bullets in the bandoliers. If your eyes drop, they will get the top of you. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. We can stick out hunger, thirst and weariness, but not, not, not, not the chronic psychism. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. Ain't so bad by day because the company, but night brings long, bring the forty thousand million. Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. I have marked six weeks in hell and certified it is not fire, devil's dock or anything, but boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again. There's no discharge in the war. Pride, pride, pride, pride, to think of something different. Oh, my God, keep me from going lunatic. Boots, boots, boots, boots, boots in the war.