By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-sittin', and I know she thinks of me
When the wind is in the rice fields, and the temple-bells they say
'Come you back, you British soldier, come you back to Mandalay!'
Come you back to Mandalay, where the old Flotilla lay,
Can't you 'ear the paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay, where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!

Her petticoat was yeller and 'er little cap was green,
And 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat, jus' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
And I seen her first a-smokin' on a whackin' white cheroot,
And a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot
Bloomin' idol made of mud what they called the Great Gawd Budd
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stood!
On the road to Mandalay, where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was settin' low,
She would grab 'er little banjo an' sing "Kulla-lo-lo!
With 'er arm upon me shoulder and 'er cheek against me cheek
We would sit nad watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephants a-pilin' teak in that squudgy, squidgy creek,
Where the silence hung so heavy, you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay, where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!

But now that's all shoved behind me - long ago an' far away
And there ain't no busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay
And I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells
If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never need naught else.
No! you won't want nothin' else but them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine, an' the palm-trees, an' the tinkly temple-bells
On the road to Mandalay, where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
And the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones,
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids out of Chelsea to the Strand,
Oh' they talks a lot of lovin', but what do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and, oh! what do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay, where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!

Ship me somewhere east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
An' there aren't no Ten Commandments, an' a man can raise a thirst;
When the temple-bells are callin', oh it's there that I would be
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking Eastward to the sea;
On the road to Mandalay, Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay
O the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder out of China 'cross the Bay!