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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,
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--
What they called the Great Gawd Budd--
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed `er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay, etc.
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 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!
On the road to Mandalay, etc.
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 leamin` `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, etc.
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 ``nd--
Law! wot do they understand?
I`ve a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay, etc.
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`, and 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!
Oh the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin`-fishes play,
An` the dawn comes up like thunder outer China `crost the Bay!
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