Bugis Street

Take a walk under the Singapore moon,
smell the ordure behind the food,
pass the fortune teller a crinkled dollar,
watch the kai-tai spit what she swallowed.
Choke on the two stroke, sleep on the street,
smile at two lovers kissing when they meet.
Hear the firecracker, or is it a gun?
Kick at the pye-dog rolling in the mud.
Wait on the corner, hands in pockets,
don't think of what the amah has in her buckets.
Sing a song for Mai Ling, croon it softly at the moon,
whistle six bars of a catchpenny tune.