Pray, brothers, pray, but to no earthly King-- Lift up your hands above the blighted grain, Look westward--if they please, the Gods shall bring Their mercy with the rain. Look westward--bears the blue no brown cloud-bank? Nay, it is written--wherefore should we fly? On our own field and by our cattle's flank Lie down, lie down to die! Semi-Chorus By the plumed heads of Kings Waving high, Where the tall corn springs O'er the dead. If they rust or rot we die, If they ripen we are fed. Very mighty is the power of our Kings! Triumphal return to Simla of the Investigators, attired after the manner of Dionysus, leading a pet tiger-cub in wreaths of rhubarb-leaves, symbolical of India under medical treatment. They sing:-- We have seen, we have written--behold it, the proof of our manifold toil! In their hosts they assembled and told it--the tale of the Sons of the Soil. We have said of the Sickness--“Where is it?”--and of Death--“It is far from our ken,”-- We have paid a particular visit to the affluent children of men. We have trodden the mart and the well-curb--we have stooped to the field and the byre; And the King may the forces of Hell curb for the People have all they desire! Castanets and step-dance:-- Oh, the dom and the mag and the thakur and the thag, And the nat and the brinjaree, And the bunnia and the ryot are as happy and as quiet And as plump as they can be! Yes, the jain and the jat in his stucco-fronted hut, And the bounding bazugar, By the favour of the King, are as fat as anything, They are--they are--they are! Recitative, Government of India, with white satin wings and electro-plated harp:-- How beautiful upon the Mountains--in peace reclining, Thus to be assured that our people are unanimously dining. And though there are places not so blessed as others in natural advantages, which, after all, was only to be expected, Proud and glad are we to congratulate you upon the work you have thus ably effected. (Cres.) How be-ewtiful upon the Mountains! Hired Band, brasses only, full chorus:-- God bless the Squire And all his rich relations Who teach us poor people We eat our proper rations-- We eat our proper rations, In spite of inundations, Malarial exhalations, And casual starvations, We have, we have, they say we have-- We have our proper rations! Chorus of the Crystallised Facts