We didn’t do a thing but make a julep,

Heigh ho! Without the cracked ice!

We didn’t do a thing but make a julep,

Ha! Ha! With the mint we found in the hills of Bontoc!

One rainy day we reached Sagada, Heigh ho! Among the rice fields! One rainy day we reached Sagada, Ha! Ha! As we toiled along o’er the hills of Bontoc!

A place most sweet with fragrant mint-beds, Heigh ho! How did it get there? A place most sweet with fragrant mint-beds, Ha! Ha! ‘Way high up in the hills of Bontoc!

We didn’t do a thing but make a julep, Heigh ho! Without the cracked ice! We didn’t do a thing but make a julep, Ha! Ha! With the mint we found in the hills of Bontoc!

It was a free-for-all composition contest; anybody was likely to produce a new verse, or even a whole new song with a different tune, at any moment, and we shortened many a long mile with such nonsense.

At Don José’s we not only sang all our songs for the benefit of our host, but one of our number produced a harmonica, on which he played very well indeed, and we had an impromptu baile . Then we “dropped the handkerchief,” “followed the leader,” gave some original renderings of German Grand Opera, played Puss-in-the-corner, and finished the evening with our feet on a fender before a great, open fire, recounting, with much appreciated embellishments, our interesting experiences.