Beneath a sky of opal hue,
By gilded shrine and banyan tree, The silent river, deep and blue, Glides onward to the open sea.
The long canoe leaps down the stream, Bare-chested rowers bend and strain And, as their paddles flash and gleam, They sing the river s old refrain :a
In rain or shine, Thro' wet or fine, In serried line We hope to gain the sea. Our boat is long, Our arms are strong, Tho* winds may blow No fear we know.
Published in the "Songs of BurmaH (Vol. I.), by Messrs. Swinhoe and Alves, Copyright, Messrs. Boosey e Co.
When screams the gale We hoist our saila The foam flakes flying merrily. Beneath the sky We live and die ; Lu-la, kya la, Youk-kya, ba tha, Mo ywa, lay la, Youk-kya, ba tha h !
The long wake spreads from side to side,
The tiny wavelets beat the shore, And, lost upon the distant tide, The long canoe is seen no more.
The wavelets pass, the voices die,
Once more, with mirrored landscape blue, The silent stream slips idly by Beneath a sky of opal hue.
r. s.r. s.