IT WAS STEAMY HOT WITH FANS SWIRLING ABOVE,
THERE WAS NO TIME FOR THE MILITIA OR EVEN
TO MAKE LOVE, JUST CONTINUE WITH THE
PIPELINE DAY AFTER DAY, FROM ONE CLEARING
TO THE NEXT ACROSS VAST TRACTS OF LAND,
DUST TO DUST TAKEN OUT NOW GRAINS OF SAND,
LOCAL LABOUR BROWN AS TEAK DOES NOT
FLINCH WHEN I START TO SPEAK - JUST
WATCHFUL AND DOWNTRODDEN BUT WILLING TO
LEARN, MAYBE IN THE NEXT LIFE IT MIGHT BE
MY TURN TO FACE HUMILITY UNDER JUNGLE SKIES,
WHEN IT'S ALL OVER , WORK IS FINISHED AND CONVERSATION DIES;
'ON THE ROAD TO MANDALAY WHERE THE FLYING FISHES PLAY,
THE DAWN COMES UP LIKE THUNDER FROM CHINA ACROSS THE BAY.'