The Green Eye of the Yellow God
By J. Milton Hayes, (1884-1940)

  • 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 for ever 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 brokenhearted woman
  • Tends the grave of 'Mad' Carew,
  • While the yellow god for ever gazes down.
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