The sons of the Prophet were brave men and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir
Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Tsar
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar
One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer
Downtown he did go, where he trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir
"Young man", quoth Abdul, "Has life grown so dull
That you wish to end your career?
Vile infidel, know you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."
Said Ivan, "My friend, your remarks, in the end
Will avail you but little, I fear
For you ne'er will survive to repeat them alive
Mr. Abdul Abulbul Amir."
"So take your last look at sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Tsar
For by this I imply, you are going to die
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar."
Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk
With a cry of "Allah-Akbar!"
And with murderous intent, he ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skavar
They fought all that night 'neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar
And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame
Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar
As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life—
In fact, he was shouting "Huzzah!"—
He felt himself struck by that wily Kalmyk
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar
The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly
Expecting the victor to cheer
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir
Tsar Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skavar
There's a tomb rises up, where the blue Danube flows
Engraved there in characters clear:
"Ah, stranger when pa**ing, oh pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."
A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps
'Neath the light of the pale polar star
And the name that she murmurs so oft as she weeps
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar