Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/48

30 March came in with the köil. Pagett was cool and gay,

Called me a "bloated Brahmin," talked of my "princely pay."

March went out with the roses. "Where is your heat?" said he.

"Coming," said I to Pagett. "Skittles!" said Pagett, M. P.

April began with the punkah, coolies, and prickly-heat,—

Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies found him a treat.

He grew speckled and lumpy—hammered, I grieve to say,

Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an illiberal way.

May set in with a dust-storm,—Pagett went down with the sun.

All the delights of the season tickled him one by one.

Imprimis—ten days' "liver"—due to his drinking beer;

Later, a dose of fever—slight, but he called it severe.

Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the Chota Bursat —

Lowered his portly person—made him yearn to depart.

He didn't call me a "Brahmin," or "bloated," or "overpaid,"

But seemed to think it a wonder that any one ever stayed.

July was a trifle unhealthy,—Pagett was ill with fear,

Called it the "Cholera Morbus," hinted that life was dear.

He babbled of "Eastern exile," and mentioned his home with tears;

But I hadn't seen my children for close upon seven years.

We reached a hundred and twenty once in the Court at noon,

[I've mentioned Pagett was portly] Pagett went off in a swoon.

That was an end to the business. Pagett, the perjured, fled

With a practical, working knowledge of "Solar Myths" in his head.