The one-eyed yellow idol
William Mitchell
him in any of my anthologies.
Does anyone know a reference where I might find the whole texr?
WIM
John Graney
Mitchell <zg...@dial.pipex.com> writes
by J Milton-Hayes
There's a one eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
He was known as Mad Carew by the subs at Khatmandu,
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 a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had 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 told him then 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 puffed 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 accross his temple dripping red;
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
And the colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.
He woke at last and asked if they would pass 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,
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;
But she wouldn't take the stone, and Mad Carew was left alone
With the jewel he had 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 through 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 Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
I just searched Altavista under 'mad Carew'
>
John
--
John Graney john....@DIGITbtinternet.com
EXTRACT DIGIT TO REPLY
Brian {Hamilton Kelly}
john....@DIGITbtinternet.com "John Graney" writes:
> The Green Eye of the Yellow God
> by J Milton-Hayes
>
>
> There's a one eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
>
[snipped]
Best seen in performance by Des O'Connor with the assistance of Jack
Douglas. Oh, and a bowlful of eggs.
:-)
--
Brian {Hamilton Kelly} b...@dsl.co.uk
"We have gone from a world of concentrated knowledge and wisdom to one of
distributed ignorance. And we know and understand less while being incr-
easingly capable." Prof. Peter Cochrane, formerly of BT Labs
Mike Stevens
"William Mitchell" <zg...@dial.pipex.com> wrote in message
news:3cb48c5f$0$227$cc9e...@news.dial.pipex.com...
> There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu but I cannot find
> him in any of my anthologies.
>
> Does anyone know a reference where I might find the whole texr?
Google gives http://www.angelos.demon.co.uk/clare/literature/carew.html
--
Mike Stevens, nb Felis Catus II
No man is an island. So is Man.
Off-list replies, please, to michael...@which.net
Web site http://www.mike-stevens.co.uk
Alan O'Brien
And don't forget to say boom-boom at the end of each verse!
--
Alan O'Brien
AMISH VIRUS:
You have just received the Amish Virus. Since we do not have electricity nor
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Thank thee.
William Mitchell
"William Mitchell" <zg...@dial.pipex.com> wrote in message
news:3cb48c5f$0$227$cc9e...@news.dial.pipex.com...
you can take them in the spirit in which they were written: serioously.
W Iain Mitchell
Nero
Try "Casabianca" by Felicia Hemans, the first line of which is
probably even better known !
Neil
Phil C.
I visited Carew Castle in Wales last year. I did hope the ghost of Mad
Carew might put in an appearance or that I might find a little yellow
idol staring down at me. Nope - just tourists.
--
Phil C.
_______________________________
philandwoody"at"meem"dot"freeserve"dot"co"dot"uk
David
Phil C. <nob...@nowhere.co.uk> wrote:
> "William Mitchell" <zg...@dial.pipex.com> wrote in message
> news:3cb5e5f4$0$234$cc9e...@news.dial.pipex.com...
> > Many thanks to all replies. I find that poems such as this work
> > better if you can take them in the spirit in which they were
> > written: serioously.
> I visited Carew Castle in Wales last year. I did hope the ghost of Mad
> Carew might put in an appearance or that I might find a little yellow
> idol staring down at me. Nope - just tourists.
Shouldn't you go to the north of Khatmandu to see those things?
But, seriously, is the poem based on real events?
--
http://www.dacha.freeuk.com/free/
Vale RISC OS: Requiescat In Pace (aka Free Stuff)
- Free Desktop Software, Font, Playing Cards and Mah-Jong Tiles
Mike Stevens
> news:3cb48c5f$0$227$cc9e...@news.dial.pipex.com...
> Many thanks to all replies. I find that poems such as this work better
if
> you can take them in the spirit in which they were written: serioously.
Perhaps you'd also enjoy the once-well-known parody of it :
The Green Tie on the little Yellow Dog
By Billy Bennett (1926)
There's a little sallow idle man lives north of Waterloo,
And he owns the toughest music hall in town.
There are broken hearted comics, there's a grave yard for them too
And the gallery gods are ever gazing down,
He was known as Fat Caroo in the pubs round Waterloo
And he wore a green tie with a diamond pin;
He was worshipped in the ranks by the captain of the swanks
And the coal man's daughter loved his double chin.
He had loved her all along,
And, despite his ong-bong-pong,
The fact that she loved him they say was right,
Though her complexion was a fake
And her teeth were put and take
(Put in by day and taken out by night).
'Twas the fifteenth anniversary of her twenty-second year,
So he Smiled at her as sweetly as a hog
And asked what present she would like and jestingly she said,
'Your green tie for my little yellow dog.'
Fat Caroo seemed in a trance
And his heart slipped through his pants,
But he tried his utmost not to look a wreck.
So he handed her the tie and kissed her hand goodbye,
And when he bowed his head she bit his neck.
Later on Caroo came to His tie had gone it's true
And his tie pin with it.
He seemed in a fog,
He rushed like mad to find, that she'd tied that tie behind
To the tailpiece of her little yellow dog.
She was screaming like a child,
The dog was running wild,
Biting policemen as he galloped up the straight;
For the little dog called Tom
When he wagged his to and from
Felt the tie pin urged him on to meet his fate.
The dog returned at dawn with his windscreen slightly torn
And on seeing took something from the lady's room.
To another room he flew, saying,'That's for Fat Caroo'
And silently he slunk out in the gloom.
When Caroo jumped into bed he'd've wakened up the dead,
With a scream as he fell like a hog.
Her false teeth they were buried in the seat of Fat Caroo
'Twas the vengeance of that little yellow dog.
There's a cockeyed yellow poodle to the north of Gonga Pooch,
There's a little hot cross bun that's turning green,
There's a double jointed woman doing tricks in ChooChinChow,
And you're a better man that I am Gunga Din.
david56
Spike Milligan (of blessed memory) rendered the first two lines thus:
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu
But the wind blew up the chimney just the same.
--
David
I say what it occurs to me to say.
The address is valid today, but I will change it to keep ahead of the
spammers.
John Hall
William Mitchell <zg...@dial.pipex.com> writes:
>Many thanks to all replies. I find that poems such as this work better if
>you can take them in the spirit in which they were written: serioously.
Are you _sure_ it was written seriously? My suspicion is that the
author's tongue was firmly in his cheek.
--
John Hall
"If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come
sit next to me."
Alice Roosevelt Longworth (1884-1980)
Shakib Otaqui
<oGDt8.8885$tZ1.2...@news2-win.server.ntlworld.com>,
"Mike Stevens" <mike...@which.net> wrote:
> [...]
> There's a cockeyed yellow poodle to the north of Gonga Pooch,
> There's a little hot cross bun that's turning green,
> There's a double jointed woman doing tricks in ChooChinChow,
> And you're a better man that I am Gunga Din.
The comedian and music-hall historian Roy Hudd tells of the
time Billy Bennett performed this for the royal family. King
George VI almost had a seizure when he heard the first line of
this stanza and recognised "Gonga Pooch" as a particularly
obscene Indian Army expression. Hudd didn't elaborate on its
meaning.
--