You perceive, do you not, that our national fairy tales reflect the inmost desires of the Briton and the Gaul?
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind.
A woman's guess is much more accurate than a man's certainty.
Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!
A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.
On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer; China 'crost the Bay!