The Song of the Dancing Dervishes.

The Song of the Dancing Dervishes.
393.3

This is the song that the Dervishes sing
As they whirl, as they skirt in a magic ring,
As cheek by jowl
They holler and howl
And prance and dance and whoop and wail
Till their lips are pale,
In the land of the mad Mad Mullah,
As they caper and kick
Like Haroun el Nick
In the moon of the Blue Abdullah:

“Allah il Allah!
Do-see-do!
Yip! Bismallah
And up we go!
Bang! Bang!

There was a man in Khoordistan,
A very holy Mussulman
From the mosque of the Great Malecca,
Who had nine wives in his fair hareem –
But he left ’em all in a prophet’s dream
And walked on his hands to Mecca.
Kismet bang! but he perspired,
And when his hands grew very tired:
‘I’ll rest a while,’ he said;
So upside-down he stood, and thrust
His holy turban in the dust
And slept upon his head.
Boo! boo!
Yip, huroo!
He was a good Mohammedan,
A very famous Mussulman
In the faith of the mad Mad Mullah!”
Sing the Dervishes as they whirl and whiz,
As they jip and jog
Through a maniac clog
In the moon of the Blue Abdullah.

This is the song that the Dervishes shout,
Turning cartwheels in and out,
While the Slaves of the Sheik
Bellow and shriek.
While pilgrims come to the tum-tum-tum
Of the kettledrum,
As long as the daylight lingers,
As they throw farce spaams
Across the chasma
And whistle upon their Angers:

“Allah il Allah!
Do-see-do!
Yip Hismallah
And up we go!
Bang! Bang!

In Badahir an old Emir
Balanced a broomstick on his ear
For three successive winters.
Upon that ear his faith he pinned
Till up there came a desert wind
And broke the broom to splinters.
Kismet bang! but he was sad –
Being the only broom he had
Its loss he did deplore –
And so to gain his soul’s repose
He balanced toothpicks on his nose
For seven summers more.
Hoo! hoo!
Kalamazoo!
A faithful Moslemite was he,
An ardent, earnest devotee
To the faith of the mad Mad Mullah!”
Sing the Dervishes as they whirl and whiz,
As they skip and hop
And flip and flop
In the moon of the Blue Abdullah.