On the road to Mandalay—
When the mist was on the rice-fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,
She’d git ’er little banjo an’ she’d sing “kulla-lo-lo!”
With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek ag’in my cheek
We uster watch the steamers an’ the Hathis pilin’ teak.
Elephints a-pilin’ teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence ’ung that ’eavy you was ’arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay—
But that all shove behind me—long ago an’ fur away,