I A song of Mandalay! Allons, Camerados, Desperadoes, Amontillados! Hear my Recitative, my Romanza, my Spring Onion! II You three-striped sergeants, you corporals, non-commissioned officers, and men with one or more good-conduct badges, You indifferent and bad characters, am I not also one with you? And will you not then hear my song? This for prelude. III You, O Mandalay, I sing! For I see the pagoda, the Moulmein and essentially wotto pagoda, But the trees are below the pagoda. IV I see the flying-fish sitting on the branches, I hear them sing, and they fly and mate and build their nests in the branches; I see a dun-coloured aboriginal she-female, mongolianÉe, petite, squat-faced, And she has a cast in her sinister optic and a snub nose but her heart is true; And I gaze into her heart (which is true), and I find that she is musing (as indeed I often muse) on ME, Me PrononcÈ, Me Imperturbe, Me Inconscionabilamente. V VI What is it that they would say do you ask Me? VII How shall I tell you, how shall I make you understand? For I know that you do not love Me, you do not comprehend Me, you say that this sort of thing does you harm; But I will even now do my darndest (as indeed I always do more or less), and if you do not like it, Waal, Soldados? VIII Behold, I will write it as a song and put it in italics, so that even you will know that it is a song; So listen, listen, Camerados! for I am about to spout and my song shall be masculine and virile. A bas your metre, À la lanterne your rhyme, conspuez your punctuation, I say pooh-pooh! |