In far off Yangon, they do say, a civil servant rose,
Who carried out his duty and did not take time to doze.
At his post from morn to eve, he used a simple smile
To expedite his work without the smallest bit of guile.
His salary is miniscule, his hours long and hot;
His uniform is starched and black, his spirit surely not!
In his next life he may be a prince or millionaire.
But today his only goal is being on the square.
I’ve never met a man like him, in all my travels wide.
The civil servants I have known are always rude and snide.
I hope that Buddha smiles on him; I hope his needs are met.
I hope they don’t promote him to a desk-bound martinet!