MANDALAY

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 hear 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 of mud-
Wot they called the Great God Budd-
Plucky lot she cared for idols
When I kissed her 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 sholder
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 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 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-
By the old Moulmein Pagoda,
lookin’ 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!

                                         Rudyard Kipling