SONG OF INDIA
(Music: Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov / Modern Lyrics: Johnny Mercer)

Mario Lanza


And still the snowy Himalayas rise
In ancient majesty before our eyes,
Beyond the plains, above the pines,
While through the ever, never changing land
As silently as any native band
That moves at night, the Ganges Shines

Then I hear the song that only India can sing,
Softer than the plumage on a black raven's wing;
High upon a minaret I stand
Upon an old enchanted land,
There's the Maharajah's caravan,
Unfolding like a painted fan,
How small the little race of Man!

See them all parade across the ages,
Armies, Kings and slave from hist'ry's pages,
Played on one of nature's vastest stages.
The turbaned Sikhs and fakirs line the streets,
While holy men in shadowed calm retreats
Pray through the night and watch the stars,
A lonely plane flies off to meet the dawn,
While down below the busy life goes on,
And women crowd the old bazaars;

All are in the song that only India can sing,
Softer than the plumage on a black raven's wing;
Tune the ageless moon and stars were strung by,
Timeless song that only could be sung by
India, the jewel of the East.


(Contributed by Bill Huntley - November 2005
Source: Our Huckleberry Friend by Bob Bach & Ginger Mercer)


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Alternate version :


And still the snowy Himalyas rise,
In ancient majesty before our eyes,
Beyond the plains, above the pines.
While through the ever never changing land,
As silently as any native band,
That moves at night, the Ganges shine.
Then I hear the song that only India can sing,
Softer than the plumage on a black raven's wing.
High upon a minaret I stand
And gaze across the desert sand,
Upon an old enchanted land
There the Maharaja's caravan,
Unfolding like a painted fan,
How small the little race of man.
See them all parade across the ages,
All these kings and slaves from History's pages,
Laid on one of Nature's vastest stages.
The turbaned Sihks and beggars line the street,
While holy men in shadowed calm retreat,
Pray through the night and watch the stars,
The loney crane flies off to meet the dawn,
While down below the busy life goes on,
And women crowd the old bazaar
All are in the song that only India can sing,
India, the jewel of the East


*****