Away from the sound of the piece goods' roar And the moan of the Shanghai Bar; Away from the gloom of the village store Where no Sycee jugglers are; Where brokers are silent and all is peace And the taipan of silk is dumb, Where the merchant of motors is cleansed from his grease And the Cotton Kings cease to look glum; Where purveyors of Soocho! ug and Orange Pekoe Are blythe and as gay as the lark, And diligent workers of mighty Ewo Are cheerful from dawn unto dark.
Away from Insurance it's figures and claims, Away from the Custom's grind, Away from the Council's hopes and aims, And "Building of Banks' left behind. Where warping and berthing are simply taboo, Where Chandlers they simply are not, Where's never a thought of the wily babu And B.A.T.'s harshly forgot.
Where running and gunning they never confuse, Where tram shares are never appraised Where, "'jazzing" and "trotting" have ceased to infuse And questions like "leave" nev. er raised. It's there that I'find a rest for my mind, The hand of a comrade that cheers.
It's there that I pack all my troubles behind In the ranks of the "Old Volunteers" B—d—d. wheel, and accelerate explosion in petrol tank.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.