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Malaya
There's a country called Malaya where the sun is always hot
Where rubber grows and tin is mined, where most men like to drink
Where pahits are in abundance to alleviate one's lot
Where Stengahs cold flow down one's throat as if it were a sink
Where palm trees wave their branches and the buffalo do roam
Where clubs abound to pander to one's never-ending thirst
Where stifling nights and clammy beds engender thoughts of home
Where wintry winds are blowing and frozen pipes do burst
Where the orchids are perfection and the Gladioli bloom
Where flying ants invade one's soup, where centipedes do crawl
Where brokers pray incessantly for still another boom
Where leaders grow still fatter through the taking of one's all
Where crocodiles bask in the sun and elephants run wild
Where prickly heat torments until one really has to swear
Where little things like unpaid chits, where they've been piled
Until the cash position eases or is broke beyond repair
Where monkeys leap from branch to branch, where fireflies catch the eye
Where rich companies grow richer by placing to reserve
Resources wanted elsewhere and this also doth apply
To those whose only effort is their shekels to conserve
Where starry skies light up the night, where mosquitoes buzz around
Where manly beauty's hidden in collar, shirt and suit
Where female clothes are scanty and pretty legs abound
Where Sunday tiffins fill one up, with curry, beer and fruit
Where phosphorescent waters one's vision can enthrall
Where officialdom doth govern, where the unofficial “yes”
Is always much in evidence in matters great or small
The reason for such attitude being impossible to guess
Where the tiger roams the jungle and the red ant builds it's nest
Where officials are exclusive and the rest of men small fry
Where socity has many grades, some bad, some of the best
Some deeply intermingled, some with aspirations to be “high”
Where all races thrive together, some most multi-coloured clad
Where towkays build great houses and their capital invest
In areas congested with the hope that they can add
To bank accounts colossal, from the earnings of the rest
Where Durians are smelly, where the padi fields are green
Where government is prosperous and taxation still is light
Where generally speaking life is just one happy stream
Of gently flowing confidence that the future will be bright
Where there's golden opportunity for men who're “on the make”
Where the climates enervating and takes a heavy toll
Of those who go a bit too fast, who want too quick a break
And end up on the sandy beach or retire upon the dole
You are really grand Malaya, for you give a sporting chance
To all who walk into your arms to work and not to roam
But in spite of opportunities one's riches to enhance
I'm one of those who'd much prefer to live a life at home
Anon
May 25th 1941
Singapore
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