Friday, July 17, 2009

Fuzzy-Wuzzy, Annotated


Fuzzy-Wuzzy
Soudan Expeditionary Force
Early Campaigns

by Rudyard Kipling

WE'VE FOUGHT with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.

We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.

Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.

'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!

'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb!
'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
For a Regiment o' British Infantree!

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -
You big black boundin' beggar - for you broke a British square!


Special thanks to Emma, whose lead, I followed. Thanks are also due to John Ringo, whose Hymn before Battle introduced me to this poem by alluding to the line, "sloshing with martinis", and to Roger Ayers, whose notes on the text were invaluable.

2 comments:

Sean said...

A Postcolonial response:

"Fuzzy-Wuzzy was a bear;
Fuzzy-Wuzzy had no hair;
Fuzzy-Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy, was 'e?"

This anonymous fragment of poetry is obviously a reaction Kipling's verse. The specific Fuzzy-Wuzzy referred to here is a warrior of great prowess ("bear", line 1), whose locks have been shorn by triumphant British Imperialists ("had no hair", line 2; also possible reference to Samson). Now un-fuzzy, the poor colonial has a crisis of identity; how can a Fuzzy-Wuzzy not be fuzzy, bearlike though he be? The final word "'e" ["he"], with the cockney pronunciation, signifies the linguistic imperialism to which the Fuzzy-Wuzzy has had to conform, robbing him of his native language, culture, and identity.

See also M.J. Makhlof's article in the most recent issue of *Squaring Off: A Journal of Sudanese Postcolonial Identity Negotiations*--"Fuzzy Again: Kipling's 'Fuzzy-Wuzzy' and the Politics of Hair".

Stephen said...

Ha, nice joke, Sean.

Your writing, however, still isn't convoluted enough to make it into even a fictional journal of postcolonial studies.