Rudyard Kipling
To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,
To my brethren in their sorrow overseas,
Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed,
And a trooper of the Empress, if you please.
Yea, a trooper of the forces who has run his own six horses,
And faith he went the pace and went it blind,
And the world was more than kin while he held the ready tin,
But to-day the Sergeant’s something less than kind.
We’re poor little lambs who’ve lost our way,
Baa! Baa! Baa!
We’re little black sheep who’ve gone astray,
Baa—aa—aa!
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha’ mercy on such as we,
Baa! Yah! Bah!
Oh, it’s sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops,
And it’s sweet to hear the tales the troopers tell,
To dance with blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops
And thrash the cad who says you waltz too well.
Yes, it makes you cock-a-hoop to be “Rider” to your troop,
And branded with a blasted worsted spur,
When you envy, O how keenly, one poor Tommy being cleanly
Who blacks your boots and sometimes calls you “Sir”.
If the home we never write to, and the oaths we never keep,
And all we know most distant and most dear,
Across the snoring barrack-room return to break our sleep,
Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?
When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters
And the horror of our fall is written plain,
Every secret, self-revealing on the aching white-washed ceiling,
Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain?
We have done with Hope and Honour, we are lost to Love and Truth,
We are dropping down the ladder rung by rung,
And the measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.
God help us, for we knew the worst too young!
Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence,
Our pride it is to know no spur of pride,
And the Curse of Reuben holds us till an alien turf enfolds us
And we die, and none can tell Them where we died.
We’re poor little lambs who’ve lost our way,
Baa! Baa! Baa!
We’re little black sheep who’ve gone astray,
Baa—aa—aa!
Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,
Damned from here to Eternity,
God ha’ mercy on such as we,
Baa! Yah! Bah!
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem, *Gentlemen Rankers*, explores the deep inner turmoil of soldiers who have fallen from grace, those who once held noble titles or positions but have now been cast into the bleak and often bitter life of the enlisted man. Through the eyes of these soldiers, the poem reflects themes of lost honor, the cruel nature of military life, and the inevitable downward spiral into despair and self-destruction.
The first stanza introduces the soldiers as “poor little lambs” who have “lost their way” and are now part of the “cohort of the damned.” The use of religious imagery here—referring to the soldiers as “lambs” and “black sheep”—emphasizes their lost status, their moral degradation, and their separation from the accepted norms of society. The soldiers’ fall from grace is also underscored by the contrast between the “gentleman of England” and the “trooper of the Empress.” The former, a member of the privileged class, is juxtaposed with the latter, a soldier of the Empire, who now faces the harsh realities of his new life.
The refrain “We’re poor little lambs who’ve lost our way” is repeated several times throughout the poem, driving home the sense of abandonment and hopelessness. It serves as both a self-deprecating acknowledgment of their fall from grace and a lament for the innocence and ideals they once had. The inclusion of “Baa! Yah! Bah!” in the refrain adds a cynical tone, mocking the innocence they have lost and the hopelessness that defines their current existence.
The second stanza provides a glimpse into the soldier’s past life, offering a view of what might have once been considered the perks of military service. “Sweet to sweat through stables, sweet to empty kitchen slops”—these lines evoke the menial, often degrading tasks that are now their lot. Yet, there’s also a sense of nostalgia in these lines, as the soldiers are aware that this “sweetness” is both degrading and self-inflicted. The reference to “blowzy housemaids at the regimental hops” further adds to the sense of disillusionment, where even moments of joy have become tawdry and hollow. The “blasted worsted spur” symbolizes a reminder of their station in life and the insignia of their lost honor, while the mention of a Tommy who “blacks your boots and sometimes calls you ‘Sir’” highlights the twisted class system within the army, where a lowly private can command a higher-ranking man, even in the most degrading of ways.
As the poem continues, the soldiers express a bitter sense of despair in the lines, “Can you blame us if we soak ourselves in beer?” Here, alcohol serves as a means of escape, a numbing agent to dull the pain of their existence. They are “lost to Love and Truth,” and the “measure of our torment is the measure of our youth.” The soldiers reflect on how they were young when they fell from grace and now, as they age, they are increasingly consumed by regret and self-loathing. They feel that they have done something so irredeemable that the only course left for them is to embrace their shame. Their youth, once filled with promise, is now only a painful reminder of their failure.
The line “Our shame is clean repentance for the crime that brought the sentence” captures the essence of the soldiers’ plight. Their guilt is complete, and they no longer have the strength or the will to try to reclaim what they have lost. They are aware that their “fall” was inevitable, and they now exist in a state of resigned surrender to the inevitable conclusion of their life’s arc. The reference to “The Curse of Reuben” alludes to a Biblical story about the sins of Reuben, one of the twelve tribes of Israel, suggesting that the soldiers are cursed by their own past mistakes and are doomed to suffer, hidden away in some foreign land where their lives and deaths will never be known.
The final lines of the poem emphasize the soldiers’ eternal damnation, again echoing the opening refrain of being “damned from here to Eternity.” This is not just a description of their current state, but a reflection of the hopelessness they feel about their futures. The soldiers have been abandoned by society, by family, and by honor. The use of the refrain throughout the poem acts as a chant or a dirge, reinforcing the perpetual sense of lostness and despair. There is no redemption for these men, no salvation from their guilt or their circumstances.
The poem’s form, too, is significant. The repeated refrain creates a sense of rhythmic inevitability, as if the soldiers are trapped in a cycle of self-pity and self-destruction. It’s a song of lost causes, a lament that serves not only to express their sorrow but to emphasize the futility of their situation. The language, while simple, carries a heavy weight of meaning—each line filled with layers of regret, disillusionment, and a resignation that speaks of a life lived in despair.
In conclusion, *Gentlemen Rankers* is a deeply tragic and poignant exploration of the lives of soldiers who have fallen from their former grace. Through the use of bitter humor, vivid imagery, and the repetition of the refrain, the poem paints a picture of hopelessness and moral decay. The soldiers, once proud and full of promise, are now reduced to “black sheep” who wander aimlessly, caught in the grip of their past mistakes and the harsh realities of military life. Their cry for mercy, both from God and from the world, is drowned out by the inevitable rhythm of their despair.