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!
— Джозеф Редьярд Киплинг