Cannot add anything to the lyrics except some background info.

Kipling always seems to capture things perfectly in his poems and songs and the more I read his work the more I admire him.

The British troops stationed in Burma were taken up (or down) the Irrawady River by paddle steamers. Rangoon to Mandalay was a 700 Km trip each way. Though a big river it is fairly shallow so even the screw driven ships of the time would have had difficulty navigating.

The Royal Navy had a number of bases in Burma as staging posts from India to the Far East Stations of Hong Kong and Wei Hai Wei. These were also coaling stations.

The British presence in the area was all part of the 'Great Game' against the Czarist influence in the area, India, Afganistan and Burma.

One of the problems with a posting to India or Burma was disease and Kipling refers to it in the words. They are laid under awnings to protect them from the sun and because in those days there was no air conditioning below decks.

More soldiers and sailors dies of disease than by action in that area at that time.

Kipling wrote an accurate piece in that was written in India.

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CHOLERA CAMP

We've got the cholerer in camp -- it's worse than forty fights;
We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites;
It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away,
An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day!

    Oh, strike your camp an' go, the Bugle's callin',
       The Rains are fallin' --
    The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below;
    The Band's a-doin' all she knows to cheer us;
    The Chaplain's gone and prayed to Gawd to 'ear us --
       To 'ear us --
    O Lord, for it's a-killin' of us so!

Since August, when it started, it's been stickin' to our tail,
Though they've 'ad us out by marches an' they've 'ad us back by rail;
But it runs as fast as troop-trains, and we cannot get away;
An' the sick-list to the Colonel makes ten more to-day.

There ain't no fun in women nor there ain't no bite to drink;
It's much too wet for shootin', we can only march and think;
An' at evenin', down the nullahs, we can 'ear the jackals say,
"Get up, you rotten beggars, you've ten more to-day!"

'Twould make a monkey cough to see our way o' doin' things --
Lieutenants takin' companies an' captains takin' wings,
An' Lances actin' Sergeants -- eight file to obey --
For we've lots o' quick promotion on ten deaths a day!

Our Colonel's white an' twitterly -- 'e gets no sleep nor food,
But mucks about in 'orspital where nothing does no good.
'E sends us 'eaps o' comforts, all bought from 'is pay --
But there aren't much comfort 'andy on ten deaths a day.

Our Chaplain's got a banjo, an' a skinny mule 'e rides,
An' the stuff 'e says an' sings us, Lord, it makes us split our sides!
With 'is black coat-tails a-bobbin' to Ta-ra-ra Boom-der-ay!
'E's the proper kind o' padre for ten deaths a day.

An' Father Victor 'elps 'im with our Roman Catholicks --
He knows an 'eap of Irish songs an' rummy conjurin' tricks;
An' the two they works together when it comes to play or pray;
So we keep the ball a-rollin' on ten deaths a day.

We've got the cholerer in camp -- we've got it 'ot an' sweet;
It ain't no Christmas dinner, but it's 'elped an' we must eat.
We've gone beyond the funkin', 'cause we've found it doesn't pay,
An' we're rockin' round the Districk on ten deaths a day!

    Then strike your camp an' go, the Rains are fallin',
       The Bugle's callin'!
    The dead are bushed an' stoned to keep 'em safe below!
    An' them that do not like it they can lump it,
    An' them that cannot stand it they can jump it;
    We've got to die somewhere -- some way -- some'ow --
    We might as well begin to do it now!
    Then, Number One, let down the tent-pole slow,
    Knock out the pegs an' 'old the corners -- so!
    Fold in the flies, furl up the ropes, an' stow!
    Oh, strike -- oh, strike your camp an' go!
       (Gawd 'elp us!)

---

Lastly for the catters that like a tipple he had a warning;

CELLS

I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick:
I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick,
But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly,
And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink
          and blacking the Corporal's eye.
    With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
    And a beautiful view of the yard,
O it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
    For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"
    Mad drunk and resisting the Guard --
    'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
    For "drunk and resisting the Guard."

I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer,
But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that that brought me here.
'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt;
But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock
          and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt.

I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road,
And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed;
They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear,
But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there!

My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard,
It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room -- it's that that cuts so hard.
I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain,
But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again!
    With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
    And a beautiful view of the yard,
Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
    For "drunk and resisting the Guard!"
    Mad drunk and resisting the Guard --
    'Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B.
    For "drunk and resisting the Guard."