---

Rudyard Kipling - Mandalay
Work rating: Medium

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 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!
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.