Mandalay

   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--
       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 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...

   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!