Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (1050 page)

Mulholland’s Contract

The fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea,
An’ the pens broke up on the lower deck an’ let the creatures free —
An’ the lights went out on the lower deck, an’ no one near but me.

I had been singin’ to them to keep ‘em quiet there,
For the lower deck is the dangerousest, requirin’ constant care,
An’ give to me as the strongest man, though used to drink and swear.

I see my chance was certain of bein’ horned or trod,
For the lower deck was packed with steers thicker’n peas in a pod,
An’ more pens broke at every roll — so I made a Contract with God.

An’ by the terms of the Contract, as I have read the same,
If He got me to port alive I would exalt His Name,
An’ praise His Holy Majesty till further orders came.

He saved me from the cattle an’ He saved me from the sea,
For they found me ‘tween two drownded ones where the roll had landed me —
An’ a four-inch crack on top of my head, as crazy as could be.

But that were done by a stanchion, an’ not by a bullock at all,
An’ I lay still for seven weeks convalessing of the fall,
An’ readin’ the shiny Scripture texts in the Seaman’s Hospital.

An’ I spoke to God of our Contract, an’ He says to my prayer:
“I never puts on My ministers no more than they can bear.
So back you go to the cattle-boats an’ preach My Gospel there.

“For human life is chancy at any kind of trade,
But most of all, as well you know, when the steers are mad-afraid;
So you go back to the cattle-boats an’ preach ‘em as I’ve said.

“They must quit drinkin’ an’ swearin’, they mustn’t knife on a blow,
They must quit gamblin’ their wages, and you must preach it so;
For now those boats are more like Hell than anything else I know.”

I didn’t want to do it, for I knew what I should get,
An’ I wanted to preach Religion, handsome an’ out of the wet,
But the Word of the Lord were lain on me, an’ I done what I was set.

I have been smit an’ bruis]\ed, as warned would be the case,
An’ turned my cheek to the smiter exactly as Scripture says;
But following that, I knocked him down an’ led him up to Grace.

An’ we have preaching on Sundays whenever the sea is calm,
An’ I use no knife or pistol an’ I never take no harm,
For the Lord abideth back of me to guide my fighting arm.

An’ I sign for four-pound-ten a month and save the money clear,
An’ I am in charge of the lower deck, an’ I never lose a steer;
An’ I believe in Almighty God an’ preach His Gospel here.

The skippers say I’m crazy, but I can prove ‘em wrong,
For I am in charge of the lower deck with all that doth belong —
Which they would not give to a lunatic, and the competition so strong!

Municipal

  “Why is my District death-rate low?”
    Said Binks of Hezabad.
  “Well, drains, and sewage-outfalls are
    “My own peculiar fad.
  “I learnt a lesson once, It ran
  “Thus,” quoth that most veracious man: —

It was an August evening and, in snowy garments clad,
I paid a round of visits in the lines of Hezabad;
When, presently, my Waler saw, and did not like at all,
A Commissariat elephant careering down the Mall.

I couldn’t see he driver, and across my mind it rushed
That that Commissariat elephant had suddenly gone
musth
.
I didn’t care to meet him, and I couldn’t well get down,
So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the town.

The buggy was a new one and, praise Dykes, it stood the strain,
Till he Waler jumped a bullock just above the City Drain;
And the next that I remember was a hurricane of squeals,
And the creature making toothpicks of my five-foot patent wheels.

He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, distraught with fear,
To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while he snorted in my ear —
Reached the four-foot drain-head safely and, in darkness and despair,
Felt the brute’s proboscis fingering my terror-stiffened hair.

Heard it trumpet on my shoulder — tried to crawl a little higher —
Found the Main Drain sewage outfall blocked, some eight feet up, with mire;
And, for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my very marrow froze,
While the trunk was feeling blindly for a purchase on my toes!

It missed me by a fraction, but my hair was turning grey
Before they called the drivers up and dragged the brute away.
Then I sought the City Elders, and my words were very plain.
They flushed that four-foot drain-head and — it never choked again!

You may hold with surface-drainage, and the sun-for-garbage cure,
Till you’ve been a periwinkle shrinking coyly up a sewer.
I
believe in well-flushed culverts. . . .
          This is why the death-rate’s small;
And, if you don’t believe me, get
shikarred
yourself. That’s all.

*

musth
— Mad.
 
shikarred
— Hunted.

My Boy Jack

1914-18

Kipling and his son, who died tragically fighting in the Great War

MY BOY JACK

Have you news of my boy Jack?”
 
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
 
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Has any one else had word of him?: “
 
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
  Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
 
None this tide,
  Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind —
  Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,
  This tide,
  And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
  And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!

The cast of the  2007 ITV movie ‘My Boy Jack’, based on the tragic loss of Kipling’s son in World War I

My Father’s Chair

Parliaments of Henry III., 1265
There are four good legs to my Father’s Chair —
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.
I sits on all of ‘em fair and square,
And that is reason it don’t break down.

I won’t trust one leg, nor two, nor three,
To carry my weight when I sets me down.
I wants all four of ‘em under me —
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.

I sits on all four and favours none —
Priests, nor People, nor Lords, nor Crown:
And I never tilts in my chair, my son,
And that is the reason it don’t break down.

When your time comes to sit in my Chair,
Remember your Father’s habits and rules,
Sit on all four legs, fair and square,
And never be tempted by one-legged stools!

My Lady’s Law

Enlarged from “The Naulahka”

          The Law whereby my lady moves
          Was never Law to me,
          But ‘tis enough that she approves
          Whatever Law it be.

          For in that Law, and by that Law
          My constant course I’ll steer;
          Not that I heed or deem it dread,
          But that she holds it dear.

          Tho’ Asia sent for my content
          Her richest argosies,
          Those would  I spurn, and bid return,
          If that should give her ease.

          With equal heart I’d watch depart
          Each spiced sail from sight;
          Sans bitterness, desiring less
          Great gear than her delight.

          Though Kings made swift with many a gift
          My proven sword to hire —
          I would not go nor serve ‘em so —
          Except at her desire.

          With even mind, I’d put behind
          Adventure and acclaim,
          And clean give o’er, esteeming more
          Her favour than my fame.

          Yet such am I, yea, such am I —
          Sore bond and freest free,
          The Law that sways my lady’s ways
          Is mystery to me!

My New-Cut Ashler

My New-Cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare.
By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.

If there be good in that I wrought
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine —
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought
I know, through Thee, the blame was mine.

The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray —
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain —
Godlike to muse o’er his own Trade
And manlike stand with God again!

One stone the more swings into place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth.
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
I saw nought common on Thy Earth.

Take not that vision from my ken —
Oh whatsoe’er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no aid from men
That I may help such men as need!

My Rival

I go to concert, party, ball —
  What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
  And strive to look at ease.
The incense that is mine by right
  They burn before her shrine;
And that’s because I’m seventeen
  And She is forty-nine.

I cannot check my girlish blush,
  My color comes and goes;
I redden to my finger-tips,
  And sometimes to my nose.
But She is white where white should be,
  And red where red should shine.
The blush that flies at seventeen
  Is fixed at forty-nine.

I wish
I
had Her constant cheek;
  I wish that I could sing
All sorts of funny little songs,
  Not quite the proper thing.
I’m very
gauche
and very shy,
  Her jokes aren’t in my line;
And, worst of all, I’m seventeen
  While She is forty-nine.

The young men come, the young men go
  Each pink and white and neat,
She’s older than their mothers, but
  They grovel at Her feet.
They walk beside Her
‘rickshaw
wheels —
  None ever walk by mine;
And that’s because I’m seventeen
  And She is foty-nine.