The Dyak chief, and other verses

by Erwin Clarkson Garrett

Shall we risk it—shall we risk it—heart o’ mine?
Oh damn the Corporal of the Guard.
While we slip “the makings” under to the Solitary’s wonder,
And the whispered thanks come back—“God bless you, pard.”

THE SULTAN COMES TO TOWN
A Philippine Reminiscence of 1900

The Sultan of Jolo has come to town—
Do tell!
The Sultan of Jolo has come to town—
The Sultan of Jolo of great renown—
And he’s dressed like a general and walks like a clown
As well.

The Sultan of Jolo’s a mighty chief—
My word!
The Sultan of Jolo’s a mighty chief—
(Don’t call ’im a grafter or chicken-thief,
For you’ll surely come to your grief,
If heard).

The Sultan of Jolo’s such a stride,
And style!
The Sultan of Jolo’s such a stride,
And his skin’s the color of rhino hide,
And he cheweth betel-nut beside:
(Oh vile!)

The Sultan of Jolo’s a swell galoot—
You bet.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a swell galoot,
So we line the scorching streets and salute,
(“Presenting Arms” to the royal boot),
And sweat.

The Sultan of Jolo’s a full-fledged king—
I say
The Sultan of Jolo’s a full-fledged king
As down the regiment’s front they swing,
He and his Escort—wing and wing:
Hurray!

The Sultan of Jolo feels his weight,
In truth.
The Sultan of Jolo feels his weight
As he marches by in regal state
With Major Sour and all The Great,
Forsooth.

The Sultan proudly treads the earth
With “cuz.”
The Sultan proudly treads the earth
O’ershadowed by the Major’s girth,
But he knows just what the Major’s worth:
He does.

The Sultan of Jolo’s a haughty bun—
(Don’t quiz).
The Sultan of Jolo’s a haughty bun—
An honest, virtuous gentleman—
And he’s rated high in Washington—
He is.