Miss Emilia St John spent innumerable hours
In pursuit of bu*terflies, bugs and wild flowers,
She cared not a fig what the villagers thought
Of her pith helmet, net and large khaki shorts.
Tired of Trowbridge and the sedate village life
And never content to be any man's wife
She embarked on a voyage to India by ship
Bid her father, the Rector "So long and pip pip."
In Bagdad a young boy of Sepoy descent
Accompanied the Memsahb wherever she went,
Into the mountains west of Zanzibar
In search of rare species for her k**ing jar.
In Rangoon the Sultan of diminutive size,
Made improper suggestions over jellied sheep's eyes,
In China the Viceroy gave her cause for concern
When the tattle at tiffin took an unsavoury turn.
So on through the swampland and regions unknown,
Where crocodile backs served as their stepping stones,
The intrepid Emilia with her bu*terfly net,
Last seen on a cycle en route to Tibet.