We're foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin' over Africa —

Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin' over Africa —

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an'-twenty mile to-day —

Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before —

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' 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—movin' up an' down again);

Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different —

Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Count—count—count—count—the bullets in the bandoliers.

If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again) —

There's no discharge in the war!

We—can—stick—out—'unger, thirst, an' weariness,

But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of 'em —

Boot—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

'Taint—so—bad—by—day because o' company,

But night—brings—long—strings—o' forty thousand million

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again.

There's no discharge in the war!

I—'ave—marched—six—weeks in 'Ell an' certify

It—is—not—fire—devils, dark, or anything,

But boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!


Киплинг

Гоша Куценко на винзаводе

Шлю-шлю

Начинаю подозревать, что как только у мужчины появляется ребенок, в мозгу резко появляется новая нейронная связь, которая содержит секретный рецепт ОМЛЕТНОГО БАТИНОГО ПИРОГА

Типа пздц, это чё реально у всех батя готовит эту ебанутую хуйню на базе омлета и всего что есть в холодосе?