A. BURMESE ENCHANTMENT. 93
and thus the little gold Buddha came back into his own again.
Little gold Buddha, Little gold Buddha,
Who stole you away ? Did you weave a charm
Little gold Buddha Over the viUain
By magic, they say, Who plotted you harm, You fled from your paya1 Till he threw you away
And went far away. In a fit of alarm ?
In stately procession Return to your shrine. How sweet sound the gongs, How bright the lamps shine, As your people escort you With honours divine.
There is no sound sweeter than the voice of Burmese gongs mingling in the dusk with a chant from the pagoda. No songs seem to me more homely than those which Burmese village-folk sing, returning from the day's work. Sometimes they sing and shout just to keep up their courage, for they are afraid to be out alone at night. They tell a joke about a young man who passed a haunted tree at dusk and took fright at some white lime on his own finger, mistaking it for the ghost. But more often the Burman sings out of pure light-heartedness. At times his song is not a proper song at all, but just made up out of his own thoughts as he goes along. On such occasions it is interesting to appear unconcerned and walk along a little way in front of him. You will then hear what thoughts a RuTman thinks.
1 Pagoda.1 Pagoda.