Drive me out to Heathrow Airport
Qn the road to Mandalay
In the middle of the night,
Shooting fifteen rolls a day,
There’s another confrontation
You can hear my Nikons clunking
So I’m on the midnight flight.
From Rangoon to Mandalay.
With my Press Card in my pocket
On the road to Mandalay
And my can of sunburn spray,
Where the Sunday ‘Times men play,
I’m another photo-journalist
And the dawn comes up on schedule
On the road to Mandalay.
In photogenic pinks and grey.
Ship me somewhere east of Suez
By the old Moulmein Pagoda
Where the best is like the worst,
On the uplands to Mandalay,
And my Ektachrome is mildered
I can see the burned out lorries
And my camera bag has burst,
And the bodies, - stiff and gray,
For my Editor is calling
But my motor-drive keeps turning
And I seem to hear. him say ,
Cause
it’s just another day,
I’m waiting for some pictures.
For a weary photo-journalist
Let the world see Mandalayf?
On the road to Mandalay.
Now
my wallet has been stolen
Now I’m back again in fleet ‘Street
And the, water’s running out,
Many miles from Mandalay,
And this trigger-happy Herbert.
But the fighting and the dying
Has a bullet up the spout,
Area still with me every day,
Thank God for helicopters
And as you skim through my pictures
And as this on life’s way,
In
bed, with breakfast tray,
I’m shooting my last pictures
You’ll be shocked (for perhaps two
(from the air) of Mandalay.
minutes) By my shots of Mandalay.
No, my pictures
will not change things
It’s no more to Mandalay
Though once I thought they would,
Where the, flying fishes play,
I’m just helping to sell papers
No more you’ll hear my Nikons
Where I’d hoped to do some good’.
From Rangoon to Mandalay.
So sad (but not much wiser)
On the road to Mandalay
I’m Off to Whitley Bay,
I’ve
said all I’ve got to say,
Photographing British coastlines
Let the day come up like thunder
It’s goodbye to Mandalay.
With no cameras in the way.