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Archive for April 17th, 2017

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Derozio (1807-31) was the father of Indian English poetry. He was half Indian, half Portuguese. But as a teacher of English at Hindu College, Calcutta, since 1928, he inspired a number of young Indians with a love of the English language and literature.

Henry Louis Vivian Derozio died young. He left some impressive poetry behind him like Chorus of Brahamins and song of the Hindustan Minstrel. His love of social reform and free thinking were taken up by some of his disciples.

As far as the contribution of Sindh towards English poetry is concerned, it possesses an amazing history.

 

It is matter of fact that progress and development of English literature in Sindh has remained untouched topic for the researchers. Nothing has been said about the first English poet of Sindh and his/her poetry. I am of opinion that “A SONG OF THE 22nd REGIMENT” is the first ever English poetry that took birth in Sindh. Nothing is known about the poet, perhaps he was witness to the fall of Meanee. This song appeared in “Sind Gazette” in its issue of 14th February 1886. This song has been dedicated to Napier, the invader of Sindh. Let us reproduce the song here:

A SONG OF THE 22nd Regt.

I

You may talk of Colin Campbell

Or of Outram for Rose;

(Not such duffers either in the Mutinee)

You may talk O’ Warren Hastin

But you breath you’ll all be wastin’

Charley Napier is the boy for me!

Oh! Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

You may talk o’ Warren Hastin’

But your breath you’ll all be wastin’

For it’s Charley is the boy for me!

II

You may talk o’ Balachava,

Waterloo or Inkerman,

But I’ll trouble you a finer sight to see,

When across the sandy nullah

Swept the twenty-second colour,

Oh! Meanee was the day for me!

For Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

As we swep’ across the nullah,

Queen’s and Regimental colour,

Oh! It’s Charley was the boy for we!

III

You may hear how Buonaparte,

Knocked the Russians into fits;

Or how Nelson smashed him up upon the sea!

But old Beloochee lion

To the Desert he sent fly in!

Sure it’s Napier is the Gineral for me.

Oh! Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

When the old Beloochee lion

To the Desert he sent fly in!

Sure it’s Napier was the Gineral for me!

IV

Have you heard how Patrick Murphy

Lay a dyin’down in scinde?

He’s a Rifleman- but, hang it! from Tralee.

“Keep your heart up, Pat”, says Charley!

“Sure, sir Charles, I’m doing rar’ly,”

with the cholera, lads, as black as black could be

Oh! Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

“Keep your heart up, Pat”, says Charley,

“Sure, sir Charles, it’s like a coach wheel yet! Says he.

V

Now Paddy’s time- expired,

Sure he’s taken his discharge,

And it’s likely, lads, you’ll find him in Tralee,

Diggin’ taties or such trifles.

Since he left the sixtieth Rifles.

Singin’ Charley is the boy for me!

Oh! Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

Diggin’ taties or such trifles

Since he left the sixtieth Rifles,

Singn’ Charley is the boy for me!

VI

So whoever you may fancy,

Get your audience some where else,

Where the Russians or the Russians might agree;

But you’d better so I reckon,

Not come near the Twenty-secon’

For it’s Napier is the boy for we!

Oh! Charley Napier is my darling!

My darling! My darling!

So you’ld better, sir, I reckon,

Not come near the twenty-second’

For it’s Charley is the boy for we!

Courtesy ; Dr. Dur Mohammad Pthan   76319_105919629479007_5682444_n

Gul Hayat Institute


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