TO MANDALAY—GREETING

A song of Mandalay! Allons, Camerados, Desperadoes, Amontillados! Hear my Recitative, my Romanza, my Spring Onion!

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.

You, O Mandalay, I sing! For I see the pagoda, the Moulmein and essentially wotto pagoda, And the pagoda is above the trees, But the trees are below the pagoda.

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.

I see [a page or so unavoidably omitted for lack of space,—refer to guide-book] and ... the wind, and the palm-trees idly swaying to and fro in the wind (now to, now fro), and I hear the bells of a temple, and I know that they are singing, and what it is that they would say.

What is it that they would say do you ask Me?

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?

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!