The sons of the Prophet are brave men and boldAnd quite unaccustomed to fearBut the bravest by far in the ranks of the ShahWas Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirNow the heroes were plenty and well known to fameIn the troops that were led by the TsarAnd the bravest of these was a man by the nameOf Ivan Skavinsky-SkavarOne day this bold Russian had shouldered his gunAnd donned his most truculent sneerDowntown he did go where he trod on the toeOf Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirYoung man, quoth Abdul, has life grown so dullThat you wish to end your lifeAnd your career?Vile infidel, no, you have trod on the toeOf Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirSaid Ivan, my friend, your remarks in the endWill avail you but little, I fearFor your ne'er will survive to repeat them aliveMr. Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirSo take your last look at Sunshine and BrookAnd send your regrets to Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirBy this I imply you are going to dieCount Ivan Skavinsky-SkavarThey fought all that night neath the pale yellow moonThe din it was heard from afarAnd huge multitudes cameSo great was the fame of Abdul and Ivan SkavarThe Sultan drove by in his red-breasted flyExpecting to see you again in the futureIn the victor to cheerBut he only drew nigh just to hear the last sighOf Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirTsar Petrovich too in his spectacles blueRode up in his new crested carHe arrived just in time to exchange a last lineWith Ivan Skavinsky-SkavarThere the tomb rises up where the blue Danube rollsEngraved in characters clearA stranger when passing go pray for the soulOf Abdul, Abu'l-Bal AmirA Moscow bike maiden her lone vigil keepsNeath the light of the pale polar starAnd the name that she murmurs so oft as she weepsIs Ivan Skavinsky-Skavar