The Far East
By the mud hole down in Subic,
Looking lazy at the bay,
There’s a goo-goo dame awaiting,
And I think I hear her say,
“Come you back, you malo soldier
Come you back, from o’er the sea,
Come you back and pay your jaw-bone
Por-a-que you jaw-bone me.”
Her little skirt was baggy,
Only reaches to her knees,
Her hair is black and greasy
And it is full of bugs and fleas,
Her teeth are black with betel nut,
Or colored with dark red paint,
Her name is Donna Marie,
The same as her patron saint.
When the rain fills up the rice fields,
And soaks us exiles to the skin
We all go down to “Bino Mary’s”
And tank up on square faced gin,
With her arms around my shoulders,
And her cheeks to mine pressed close,
And I smell her breath, Oh! Glory,
I have to hold my nose.
But I’ve left it all behind me,
Thank God, I’m far away,
Back here in God’s own country,
And you bet your boots, I’ll stay,
And I’m learning in my old home town
That folks are wise who say,
When you hear that “Far East” calling
Just be wise and stay away.
No more have I of the “Dhoby”
Or the awful prickly heat,
But I walk out in the evening,
With a maiden fair and sweet.
Just give me one good Yankee girl,
Looking like my own,
And the goo-goo girls are welcome,
To the “gink” that wrote this poem.
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