The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God
J. Milton Hayes
1893 to 1940
Track 1
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The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod;
Then went out into the night beneath the stars.
And a gash across his temple dripping red;
He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong,
His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through;
Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.
He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew;
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
But the green eye of the little Yellow God.
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
They met next day as he dismissed a squad;
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
'Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."
When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell;
And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars:
On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,
And she found the little green eye of the god.
He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew,"
As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;
And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.
She thought of him and hurried to his room;
But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone
And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.
And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod;
He was known as "Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu,
An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,
There's a little marble cross below the town;
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through;