I did this one mostly with loops in Real Band and after I wrote the melody in BIAB. I then finished the production in My DAW. This had been a Kippling poem published in 1865 so it is now public domain. Many people have turned the poem into song over the years but I could never find a version I liked, so I made one.

Sound Cloud

Joe,

Kipling's poetry sounds like it was written for your melody. They mesh quite well into your song in both cadence and mood. Vocal is superb! Thanks for posting.

If someone hasn't done it the way you'd like yet, why not try it yourself, right? I love people putting poems to music. They're already so perfect for songs because of how they're written most times.

Thanks for sharing!

I really like your take on this. It is a nice song... and a very good production as well.
You have a good voice - very soothing to listen to.

Will

Yeah, I been thinking I might do some more of these.

Nice concept and very professionally put together - and a really nice vocal.
Great sound and very clever use of loops.

Peter

Thanks so much Peter.

For those unfamiliar...one of the rare occasions RK described the true dirt of reality.
You've done a fabulous job finding a musical setting and melody.
COOL!

WHEN the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts -
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts -
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes - as it will past a doubt -
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old -
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em - you'll swing, on my oath! -
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old [*****];
She's human as you are - you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!

You've certainly have done a terrific job on this one...
I really liked your vocal delivery!
I do hope you do some more of these.

Lovely, minor key really suits this as well.

Wow - what a tune! It has such a huge, epic feeling to it. You did a wonderful job modernizing the poem, for sure. Love the progressions, and love your vocal delivery. It is incredibly catchy, and holds a lot of power behind it.

You should be proud of this one - thanks for sharing

Oh hey, lyrics, very nice!

Now that the original lyrics have been posted somebody asked me why I did not use the reference to Afghanistan in the last stanza. It is true Kipling was talking about a soldier dying in Afghanistan, and I intentionally left that out. My publisher, (Merf Music in Nashville) tells me they want lyrics as universal as possible if a song is to be sold for sync placement in TV or movies. They don't need universal near so much if you are writing for another artist but in sync work references to names, dates, places and specific incidents are strictly frowned upon. This song already crosses that line in the title alone so I was trying to minimize that to keep the publisher as happy as possible.

Hey Joe,

this is amazing. I don't think it could have been done any better. Really awesome!!!

Stefan

Joe,
Great arrangement. Crazy good, haunting vocals. I enjoyed this much.
Thank you for posting!

Misha.

So many thanks, it's probably the microphone.