General Summary
We are very slightly changedFrom the semi-apes who rangedIndia's prehistoric clay;Whoso drew the longest bow,Ran his brother down, you know,As we run men down today.
“Dowb,” the first of all his race,Met the Mammoth face to faceOn the lake or in the cave,Stole the steadiest canoe,Ate the quarry others slew,Died—and took the finest grave.
When they scratched the reindeer-boneSomeone made the sketch his own,Filched it from the artist—then,Even in those early days,Won a simple Viceroy's praiseThrough the toil of other men.
Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visageFavoritism governed kissage,Even as it does in this age.
Who shall doubt the secret hidUnder Cheops' pyramidWas that the contractor didCheops out of several millions?Or that Joseph's sudden riseTo Comptroller of SuppliesWas a fraud of monstrous sizeOn King Pharoah's swart Civilians?
Thus, the artless songs I singDo not deal with anythingNew or never said before.
As it was in the beginning,Is today official sinning,And shall be forevermore.
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