Outcast men of the world are we, 
Sunk in the depths of iniquity 
Detested by all and loved by none. 
A blot on the face of the kindly sun. 
Men of training and breeding and birth 
Who knew full well what the game was worth 
Who played their hands -- and lost -- 
      -- and then 
Lost themselves from the world of men.

We hid ourselves in the Island world 
Where the flashing coils of the "Snake" are curled 
We sought the depths to hide our shame. 
The "thing" we had made of an honored name. 
We swam the Bay in the early dawn 
But the Shark came not, and we lived on. 
We sought the end in the bolo's steel 
But hearts wounds live, while flesh wounds heal.

We went unarmed to the Moro's "jil" 
But they called us "mad" and they would not kill. 
And the Padre came with his tale of Grace 
But we knew better, and laughed in his face.

We twined our hearts in a woman's hair 
Then tried to forget in the din and glare 
Of a "tienda down on the opal bay 
Where many men come and some men stay.

We lost ourselves in the Army then, 
Our identity merely "Enlisted Men" 
But in the dusk, when the shadows start to crawl 
In their weird, wild dance on the barracks wall 
A ghastly pageant that comes to stir 
Our memory again to what we were  
And we bow our heads and stifle a cry 
For we don't know how and we'll never know why.