| |
| BY the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ eastward to the sea, | |
| There’s a Burma girl a-settin’, and I know she thinks o’ me; | |
| For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say: | |
| “Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!” | |
| Come you back to Mandalay, | 5 |
| Where the old Flotilla lay: | |
| Can’t you ’ear their paddles chunkin’ from Rangoon to Mandalay? | |
| On the road to Mandalay, | |
| Where the flyin’-fishes play, | |
| An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the Bay! | 10 |
| |
| ’Er petticoat was yaller an’ ’er little cap was green, | |
| An’ ’er name was Supi-yaw-lat—jes’ the same as Theebaw’s Queen, | |
| An’ I seed her first a-smokin’ of a whackin’ white cheroot, | |
| An’ a-wastin’ Christian kisses on an ’eathen idol’s foot: | |
| Bloomin’ idol made o’ mud— | 15 |
| Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd— | |
| Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed ’er where she stud! | |
| On the road to Mandalay … | |
| |
| When the mist was on the rice-fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow, | |
| She’d git ’er little banjo an’ she’d sing “Kulla-lo-lo!” | 20 |
| With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek | |
| We useter watch the steamers an’ the hathis pilin’ teak. | |
| Elephints a-pilin’ teak | |
| In the sludgy, squdgy creek, | |
| Where the silence ’ung that ’eavy you was ’arf afraid to speak! | 25 |
| On the road to Mandalay … | |
| |
| But that’s all shove be’ind me—long ago an’ fur away, | |
| An’ there ain’t no ’busses runnin’ from the Bank to Mandalay; | |
| An’ I’m learnin’ ’ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells: | |
| “If you’ve ’eard the East a-callin’, you won’t never ’eed naught else.” | 30 |
| No! you won’t ’eed nothin’ else | |
| But them spicy garlic smells, | |
| An’ the sunshine an’ the palm-trees an’ the tinkly temple-bells; | |
| On the road to Mandalay … | |
| |
| I am sick o’ wastin’ leather on these gritty pavin’-stones, | 35 |
| An’ the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones; | |
| Tho’ I walks with fifty ’ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand, | |
| An’ they talks a lot o’ lovin’, but wot do they understand? | |
| Beefy face an’ grubby ’and— | |
| Law! wot do they understand? | 40 |
| I’ve a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! | |
| On the road to Mandalay … | |
| |
| Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, | |
| Where there are n’t no Ten Commandments an’ a man can raise a thirst; | |
| For the temple-bells are callin’, an’ it’s there that I would be— | 45 |
| By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea; | |
| On the road to Mandalay, | |
| Where the old Flotilla lay, | |
| With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay! | |
| O the road to Mandalay, | 50 |
| Where the flyin’-fishes play, | |
| An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the Bay! | |
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