Mandalay

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at 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,    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! '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 —    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!~"With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my

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!    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."    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,

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?    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 aren'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 —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!    On the road to Mandalay,    Where the flyin'-fishes play,    An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

The header graphic is a photograph of Moulmein Harbour as viewed from the great Kyaikthanlan Pagoda in Burma, taken in the 1870's by Samuel Bourne (1832-1912).