by George Orwell
When I was young and had no sense,
In far off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.
Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said “For twenty silver pieces,
Maiden sleep with me.”
She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty five.