Boots

“Boots” is a poem by English author and poet Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). It was first published in 1903, in his collection The Five Nations.^[1]

“Boots” imagines the repetitive thoughts of a British Army infantryman marching in South Africa during the Second Boer War. It has been said that if the first four words in each line are read at the rate of two words to the second, that gives the time to which a British foot soldier was accustomed to march.^[2]

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

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

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up and 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 and 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!

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 and 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!

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!

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