Treasure Island

Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Road Song of the Bandar-Log


Here we go in a flung festoon,
Half-way up to the jealous moon!
Don't you envy our pranceful bands?
Don't you wish you had extra hands?
Would n't you like if your tails were -- so --
Curved in the shape of a Cupid's bow?
Now you're angry, but -- never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

Here we sit in a branchy row,
Thinking of beautiful things we know;
Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do,
All complete, in a minute or two --
Something noble and grand and good,
Won by merely wishing we could.
Now we're going to -- never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

All the talk we ever have heard
Uttered by bat or beast or bird --
Hide or fin or scale or feather --
Jabber it quickly and all together!
Excellent! Wonderful! Once again!
Now we are talking just like men.
Let 's pretend we are... never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
This is the way of the Monkey-kind.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Saadat Tahir (6/28/2009 3:57:00 AM)

    its sad that there is no comment on this jewel by R_K
    his keen eye and love for folklore combined with his geographical presence and environs, mixed to create some of the most beautiful poems written...

    i feel priveleged and honoured to leave a comment on this poem

    a larger than life size persona....who did wonders for english language
    cheers to his contribution. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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