Rahadlakum

On days when my lord groweth restless

And bored with his sword and his plume

His handmaiden hath what he needeth,

And what doth he need?-

        - Rahadlakum!

On nights when my lord looketh listless

And black is the hue of his gloom

His handmaiden hath what he lacketh

And what doth he lack? -

        - Rahadlakum!

'Tis sweet with the meat of the lichee nut

Combined with the kumquat rind,

The kind of confection

To drive a man out of

His Mesopotamian mind!

And lo, if my lord feeleth faithless

And roameth by night from his room

His handmaiden fanneth her fires

And out of the pan

Riseth a tantalizing perfume...

He scenteth the scent,

He turneth his face,

His previous place in her embrace

He does resume!

And love is in bloom

The while they consume

        Rahadlakum!

        Rahadlakum!