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.