ORION GOLIGHTLY B.C.S. sings: 1 Skin may be scorching, and brain may be batter; Head may be swimming, and tongue may be white; Liver uneasy—but what does it matter? The mail brings Her into the station tonight! 2 Sadly the heat from July to September Has soddened and shaken a fever-racked frame: Complexions may change but She will remember That, even in India, the Heart is the same. 3 Scant time indeed have I had to be merry, Little of leave and less of delight, Stewing all day in that frowsy Kutcherry; What do I care?—She is coming tonight! 4 Tennis be hanged! I am off to the Station, 'Tum-tum men tattu hamara rukho!' Ages it seems since in deep tribulation I watched Her departure, just five months ago. 5 Back from Olympus to damp-laden, steamy Plains and her lover who longs for the sight, My Darling returns; and Creation may see me The happiest man in the Province tonight. 6 My bearer's a drunkard; my sais cribs the gram; My one polo-pony's as lame as a post: I know I shall mull my next Persian exam; My pay is a scanty five-fifty at most. 7 I'm only a Stunt-sahib employed in the 'Revenue'; But yet I am dearer in Somebody's sight Than all the big bosses at Simla She ever knew; And I'm off to the Station to meet Her tonight. (Climbs into tum-tum and exit tumultuously.)
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