A Ballade of Jakko Hill – Rudyard Kipling

One moment bid the horses wait,

Since tiffin is not laid till three,

Below the upward path and straight

You climbed a year ago with me.

Love came upon us suddenly

And loosed — an idle hour to kill —

A headless, armless armory

That smote us both on Jakko Hill.
Ah Heaven! we would wait and wait 

Through Time and to Eternity!

Ah Heaven! we could conquer Fate

With more than Godlike constancy

I cut the date upon a tree —

Here stand the clumsy figures still: 

“10-7-85, A.D.”

Damp with the mist of Jakko Hill.
What came of high resolve and great,

And until Death fidelity!

Whose horse is waiting at your gate?

Whose ‘rickshaw-wheels ride over me?

No Saint’s, I swear; and — let me see

To-night what names your programme fill —

We drift asunder merrily,

As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill.

Princess, behold our ancient state

Has clean departed; and we see

‘Twas Idleness we took for Fate

That bound light bonds on you and me.

Amen! Here ends the comedy

Where it began in all good will;

Since Love and Leave together flee

As driven mist on Jakko Hill! 

A Ballad of Burial – Rudyard Kipling

If down here I chance to die,

Solemnly I beg you take

All that is left of “I”

To the Hills for old sake’s sake,

Pack me very thoroughly

In the ice that used to slake

Pegs I drank when I was dry —

This observe for old sake’s sake.
To the railway station hie,

There a single ticket take

For Umballa — goods-train — I

Shall not mind delay or shake.

I shall rest contentedly

Spite of clamor coolies make;

Thus in state and dignity

Send me up for old sake’s sake.
Next the sleepy Babu wake,

Book a Kalka van “for four.”

Few, I think, will care to make

Journeys with me any more

As they used to do of yore.

I shall need a “special” break —

Thing I never took before —

Get me one for old sake’s sake.
After that — arrangements make.

No hotel will take me in,

And a bullock’s back would break

‘Neath the teak and leaden skin

Tonga ropes are frail and thin,

Or, did I a back-seat take,

In a tonga I might spin, —

Do your best for old sake’s sake.
After that — your work is done.

Recollect a Padre must

Mourn the dear departed one —

Throw the ashes and the dust.

Don’t go down at once. I trust

You will find excuse to “snake

Three days’ casual on the bust.”

Get your fun for old sake’s sake.
I could never stand the Plains.

Think of blazing June and May

Think of those September rains

Yearly till the Judgment Day!

I should never rest in peace,

I should sweat and lie awake.

Rail me then, on my decease,

To the Hills for old sake’s sake.