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Song Of India - Mario Lanza
Written by：Johnny Mercer/Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov
And still the snowy Himalayas rise
In ancient majesty before our eyes
Beyond the plains above the pines
While through the ever never changing land
As silently as any native band
That moves at night the Ganges shines
Then I hear the song that only India can sing
Softer than the plumage on a black raven's wing
High upon a minaret I stand
And gaze across the desert sand
Upon an old enchanted land
There's the maharajah's caravan
Unfolding like a painted fan
How small the little race of man
See them all parade across the ages
Armies kings and slave from hist'ry's pages
Played on one of nature's vastest stages
The turbaned Sikhs and fakirs line the streets
While holy men in shadowed calm retreats
Pray through the night and watch the stars
A lonely plane flies off to meet the dawn
While down below the busy life goes on
And women crowd the old bazaars
All are in the song that only India can sing
India the jewel of the east
