By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-setting, and I know she thinks of me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, 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 hear their paddles chunking from Rangoon to Mandalay.
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flying-fishes play,
And the dawn comes up like thunder, out of China across the Bay.