Th' unhappy creature, Eastern to the core,
Holding my gift in superstitious dread,
Had made a turban out of it, and wore
His trousers—on his head!
TO MANDALAY—GREETING
(BY WALTYARD WHIPMING)
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