She was only a postman’s daughter
But oh, how she sorted the male.
* * * *
There’s a little chinese temple on the road to Mandalay
It stands beside the duckpond where the flying fishes play
It’s surrounded by the jungle where the wild hyenas roar
While the hills of Morne are rolling to the fab fab fabish shore
There’s a little dusky maiden and her name is Osicosh
Daughter of the ruling prince who’s known as Big Chief Neverwash
And she waits there for her soldier boy who’ll never come again
Yes, she waits beside the Temple, but alas she waits in vain
It all concerns the tragic fate of Captain Jack McClung
Who broke into the holy shrine and pinched the idol’s tongue
He was a dashing Captain of the Blankshire Fusiliers
Who once was quite an infant, but grew older with the years
‘Twas in the Hymalayas on a sultry Summer night
He’d just seen little Osicosh and fell in love at sight
He wooed her ‘neath the palm trees where the straight bananas grow
And told her tales of gay Paree and rag-time Cowboy Joe
He swore that he would marry her and give up his commish
And said he’d give her anything her little heart might wish
So she told him of the temple and the secret of the god
In whose tongue was hid a fortune that was worth ten years in quad
And so one moonlit starry night when everything was dark
McClung disguised as Santa Claus gained access to the park
The temple which was in the park which closed at half past nine
And tresspassers were shot, without the option of a fine
It was the evening of the feast of Gunkgerzunkgazoobies
And all the priests and priestesses had gone to see the movies
Young Captain Jack crawled through a crack beneath the temple wall
And found himself within the grizzly sacremental hall
He gazed around that awful place and felt his kneecaps knocking
And gripped the bow and arrow that he’d hidden in his stocking
The idol seemed to mock him with its hateful tongue protruding
He couldn’t move from where he stood, as he stood where he was stooding
At last he cautiously advanced and climbed upon its lap
And standing on its tummy found that he could reach its 'gap'
Then suddenly the lights went out, he gripped his big repeater
But all was still and someone put a penny in the meter
And so within the idol’s mouth his hand he quickly thrust
And thereby sealed his doom, as it was written that he must
For lying in the idol’s mouth but ceaselessly on guard
Lay coiled a deadly sentinal, which struck, and struck him hard
Too late he drew his hand away, too late he fired the shot
Too late he saw the mousetrap there in which his hand was caught
The game was up, he’d played and lost, the temple bell was rung
He’d not a moment now to spare, he pocketed the tongue
Determined to deliver it though it should cost his life
In Safety at the feet of Osh who’d sworn to be his wife
But now alas it was too late, the signal had been given
It seemed that after all he’d lost all that for which he’d striven
The temple swarmed with angry priests, a horde of wild fanatics
Who shrieked and yelled as though they had a dose of scatiatics
And there alone and unafraid he fought that howling pack
Till weight of numbers told its tale, they got him on his back
But ere he died he spoke these words, they’ll surely live for ever
Cried Jack McClung, “Take back this tongue, you know I ordered liver.”

There’s a little chinese temple on the road to Mandalay
It stands beside the duckpond where the flying fishes play
There’s a little dusky maiden dreaming of the might-have-been
And she’s waiting there alone to hear what’s won the three fifteen.