Kathmandu: The Green Eye Of The Little Yellow God

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There's a one-eyed yellow idol

to the north of Kathmandu;

there's a little marble cross below the town.

And a broken-hearted woman

tends the grave of 'Mad' Carew,

while the yellow god forever gazes down.

He was known as 'Mad Carew’

by the subs at Kathmandu.

He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell.

But, for all his foolish pranks,

he was worshipped in the ranks

and the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along

with the passion of the strong

and that she returned his love was plain to all.

She was nearly twenty-one

and arrangements were begun,

to celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present

she would like from 'Mad' Carew;

they met next day as he dismissed a squad.

And jestingly she made pretence

that nothing else would do

but the green eye of the little yellow god.

On the night before the dance,

'Mad' Carew seemed in a trance

and they chaffed him,

as they pulled at their cigars.

But for once he failed to smile and he sat alone awhile,

then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned, before the dawn

with his shirt and tunic torn,

and a gash across his temples dripping red.

He was patched up right away

and he slept all through the day,

while the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked her

if she'd send his tunic through.

She brought it and he thanked her with a nod.

He bade her search the pocket,

saying, 'That's from "Mad" Carew,'

and she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew,

in the way that women do,

although her eyes were strangely hot and wet.

But she would not take the stone

and Carew was left alone

with the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height

on that still and tropic night,

she thought of him and hastened to his room.

As she crossed the barrack square

she could hear the dreamy air,

of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.

His door was open wide,

with silver moonlight shining through.

The place was wet and slippery where she trod.

An ugly knife lay buried

in the heart of 'Mad' Carew:

'twas the vengeance of the little yellow god.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol

to the north of Kathmandu;

there's a little marble cross below the town.

And a broken-hearted woman

tends the grave of 'Mad' Carew,

while the yellow god forever gazes down.

(J. Milton Hayes)

This is my way of saying we're off to Nepal. Who knows what we're going to find...