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by D. Michael Enfield
In 1890, Rudyard Kipling, the first Nobel laureate in the history of English literature, published a collection of poems known as the "Barrack Room Ballads", inspired by his extensive travels in India, often in respectful company of soldiers of the British army assigned there. One of the most famous of these poems is "Mandalay", and in 1999 I came into possession of a home-made book consisting of penny pamphlets of Kipling's writings of that time, bound together in a leather cover complete with a frontispiece photograph of Kipling. Therein I also found the majority of one stanza of "Mandalay", written in green ink in Kipling's hand, and signed by him.
Aside from its undeniable historical value, what makes this item all the more interesting is that it differs from the published version of the poem. A close comparison of the original and this unique version suggests to me that the person who crafted this book was a contemporaneous fan of Kipling's, who may have encountered the writer while he was enjoying refreshments in some public house, thereupon importuning upon the author to jot down something from memory as a memento.
Could the affects of said refreshments have muddied the poet's memory? You may view a larger image of the unique manuscript version of the stanza in question by clicking on the link to the left. But first, here is the entire poem (with the published words from the relevant stanza in green, in respect of Kipling's evident preference in inks) followed by the same stanza as it appears in this unique manuscript (again, in green):
Mandalay
By Rudyard Kipling
The published version:
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the templebells 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 their paddles chunkin from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud --
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd --
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay.
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing 'Kullalo-lo!'
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek
We useter 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,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
'If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else.'
No ! you won't 'eed 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 outer China 'crost the Bay!
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and --
Law! wot 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 outer China 'crost the Bay!.
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is, like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', and it's there that I would be --
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea.
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
Oh the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
The second stanza from the acquired autograph version:
Her petticoat was yellow and her little cap was green,
and her name was Supiyawlat, jest the same as Burmah’s Queen,
And I seed her first a smokin’ of a whacking white cheroot,
And awasting heathen kisses on a heathen idol’s foot
Bloomin’ idol made of mud
That they called the great god Bud
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed her where she stood!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay.
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