Once composed in a letter, rice paper from '58
thoughtful strokes of the India ink
made by a makeshift quill from the village farm
It's hardly legible now, it was hardly legible then
It was hardly the sentiment of a man of a man of a
man of a man among men
Third week of November, a few steps off the plane
some notice nature, some read the paper
he notes the wall to wall rug
It was hardly believable then,
and it's hardly believable now
The man who's vocation- pitch God to a nation
who might otherwise choose a cow
Round the globe, there's a robe
and a boy named James gets his cot
while he's gone from Dacca
But it's home, and he's known
that it's nice to stay,
but he can't be away from Dacca
Open toe in December, stateside fashion faux
but overseas in his village remember
that the temperature's rarely this low
He holds the tv remote like a chimpanzee with a gun
He marvels at the pace of the western ways
at the VCR at the microwave
Chorus
Recall better days as a youth
broke his arm in a fight over nothing
Move ahead when friend of the cloth
got a spear in the side over nothing
He was a mission man, therefore the Son of Man
this happens everyday, wish he ran away
Celebrating a nephew's vows
on his once every 7 year trips
at the reception there's an open bar
and he takes his fair share of trips
He shares a room with the in-laws &
settles on the floor with a mug
He falls asleep on the tv remote
& becomes the wall to wall rug
Once composed in a letter, inkjet in '98
he's flyin back for a three month break
& admits that he just can't wait
He loves his world by the Ganges
he loves it by the Bengal Bay
But he's not torn about leaving
& he's not bothered to stay
(it's been a good life's work)
Chorus