Mercy! Mercy! That Dang Nabed PERCY!

Old Snarlieyowl

Old Snarlieyowl

Tonight I was sitting at the bar drinking Jeagermeisters when this old Kipling poem started cycling through my head. After struggling through it mentally, half a dozen times, I had it sorted out good enough and shared it like I was telling a story from memory, with those of us sitting around. This poem comes to life when it is recited in a bar and the reciter and patrons are a little wacked…..It still holds the same magic today that it did when the master wrote it somewhere in the Empire during the days of Queen Victoria.

For those who have trouble understanding it…. it is the tale of a cannon pulled by a team of horses being rushed into battle. A shell falls and mortally wounds a horse named Snarlieyowl….he gets tangled in the harness and as they try and get him loose they drive over him….then another shell mortally wounds the driver’s brother and they do the same to him.

If my memory is imperfect or I change some of the words in the name of political correctness I beg your indulgence….This is not a verbatim rendering but a recollection shared with others. Again the poem is one of my favorites and was written by Rudyard Kipling, who I consider the greatest poet that ever lived.

Old Snarlieyowl

This happened in a battle to a regiment of the corps
That was first among the women and amazing first in war
And what that bloomin battle was I cannot now recall
But two off line he answered to the name Old Snarlieyowl

Now they was movin into battle, and was needed mighty sore
To give a little schooling to this native army Corps
And they raced along a ridgeline and were coming down the brow
When a tricky trundling round shot gave the knock to Snarlieyowl

The cut him from the harness, he was nearly blowed in two
But he tried to follow after like a good old horse will do
And he went and fouled the limbers….and the driver’s brother squeals
Pull up, Pull up for Snarlieyowl, his heads beneath the wheels

Well the drive couldn’t do nothing, cause the wheels was turning ‘round
And there ain’t no “Stop Conductor” when a battery’s changing ground
I trained him from a colt my lads and very bad I feels
But I can’t pull up for Snarlieyowl, his heads between the wheels

Now these words he’d only spoken, when there came another round
That hit to left the caisson and slammed into the ground
And when the smoke had cleared away….now between the wheels
Lay the driver’s brother with his head between his heels

Then spoke the driver’s brother and his words was very plain…
For God’s own sake get over me and put me out of pain
Well they seen his wounds was mortal and judged that it was best
So they went and drove that limber straight across his back and chest.

The driver he said nothing, just gave a mournful grunt
And swung those horses handsome when it came to action front
…and if one wheel was slippery….you can bet your Monday head
It was slipperyer for those rebels when the chain began to spread.

Now the moral to this story’s very plainly to be seen
You haven’t got no family when you’re serving of the Queen
You haven’t got no mothers fathers, sisters wives or sons
And if you want to do your duty go and shoot the bloomin guns.