When you talk to him of India and his Hometown of Bombay
Still me happy here in Melbourne the dark eyed Rahul say.
That accent that he brought with him is with him for to stay
It came with him and stays with him the man from far away
Last week he turned forty one his hair is turning gray
And he’ll be twenty years in Melbourne on the fifteenth of May.
His wife a white Australian and their only child is thirteen
And the Land her father came from Rahul’s daughter has not seen
Yet she does look very Indian with long straight and raven hair
A teenage dusky beauty with brown eyes and beauty rare.
He has told her about Bombay ‘far too many people there’
Where sixty thousand must grow poorer just to make one millionaire
And though he does love life in Melbourne the accent never lie
And he will be an Indian until the day he die.
When Australia play India in cricket his Country’s colours he don
And he doesn’t feel ashamed to say that he urges India on
Walter Scott in his ‘Lay of the last Minstrel’ told of love of Homeland
And that Rahul still loves India not hard to understand.