The Sultan of Jolo has come to town--
Do tell!
The Sultan of Jolo has come to town--
The Sultan of Jolo of great renown--
And he’s dressed like a general and walks like a clown
As well.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a mighty chief--
My word!
The Sultan of Jolo’s a mighty chief--
(Don’t call ’im a grafter or chicken-thief,
For you’ll surely come to your grief,
If heard).
The Sultan of Jolo’s _such_ a stride,
And style!
The Sultan of Jolo’s _such_ a stride,
And his skin’s the color of rhino hide,
And he cheweth betel-nut beside:
(Oh vile!)
The Sultan of Jolo’s a swell galoot--
You bet.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a swell galoot,
So we line the scorching streets and salute,
(“Presenting Arms” to the royal boot),
And sweat.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a full-fledged king--
I say
The Sultan of Jolo’s a full-fledged king
As down the regiment’s front they swing,
He and his Escort--wing and wing:
Hurray!
The Sultan of Jolo feels his weight,
In truth.
The Sultan of Jolo feels his weight
As he marches by in regal state
With Major Sour and all The Great,
Forsooth.
The Sultan proudly treads the earth
With “cuz.”
The Sultan proudly treads the earth
O’ershadowed by the Major’s girth,
But he knows just what the Major’s worth:
_He does_.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a haughty bun--
(Don’t quiz).
The Sultan of Jolo’s a haughty bun--
An honest, virtuous gentleman--
And he’s rated high in Washington--
He is.
The Sultan of Jolo’s a splendid bird--
Whoopee!
The Sultan of Jolo’s a splendid bird,
But we in our ignorance pledge our word
His asinine plumage is absurd
To see.
The Sultan and Major Sour are
Such chums:
The Sultan and Major Sour are
So wrapped in love exceeding par,
That war shall never war-time mar--
--what comes.
(The Sultan of Jolo guesseth right--
Yo ho!
The Sultan of Jolo guesseth right,
As sure as daytime follows night,
That Major Sour wouldn’t fight:
Lord--no!)
The Sultan of Jolo is pretty wise--
(And weeds).
The Sultan of Jolo is pretty wise,
In spite of innocent, bovine eyes,
And the soothing tongue o’ the Eastern skies
And creeds.
The Sultan of Jolo passeth by--
Oh Lor’!
The Sultan of Jolo passeth by,
But we in the ranks can’t wink an eye,
Though we think we know the Reasons Why,
And more.
The Sultan of Jolo walketh flat--
(Have a care!)
The Sultan of Jolo walketh flat,
But Nature’s surely the cause of that;
And he’s salaried high--and sleek and fat--
So there!
The Sultan of Jolo laughs in glee--
Why not?
The Sultan of Jolo laughs in glee
As his wages come across the sea
From those who _hate_ polygamy--
God wot!
Oh the Sultan of Jolo’s gold and gilt--
He is.
Oh the Sultan of Jolo’s gold and gilt,
His chest and his sleeves and his good sword hilt,
And he knows the lines on which are built--
His _biz_.