The Green Eye of the Yellow God by J. Milton Hayes

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu

 There's a little marble cross below the town;

 And a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of 'Mad' Carew

 While the yellow god for ever gazes down.
 
He was known as 'Mad' Carew by the subs of Kathmandu,

 He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell.

 But for all his foolish pranks he was worshipped in the ranks,

 And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

 He had loved her all along with the passion of the strong,

 And that she returned his love was plain to all.

 She was nearly twenty-one, and arrangements were begun

 To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from 'Mad' Carew;

 They met next day as he dismissed a squad:

 And jestingly she made pretence that nothing else would do

 But the green eye of the little yellow god.

 On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,

 And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars:

 But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,

 Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

 He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,

 And a gash across his temple dripping red;

 He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,

 And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

 He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through;

 She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod;

 He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew,"

 And she found the little green eye of the god.

 She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,

 Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;

 But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone

 With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.

 When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,

 She thought of him and hurried to his room;

 As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air

 Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.

 His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through;

 The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod;

 An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,

 Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."

 There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,

 There's a little marble cross below the town;

 There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,

 And the Yellow God forever gazes down.