Thou canst not jest but jeer Was ever the bairn in thee? A mechanical miser of empire Haunted by mercantile loss A contemptible moneyed vampire, The broken fall into thine trap Do not look down on me sir, For I will not doff mine cap. For thou art truly my elder But never a better shall be You can furrow thine brow and spit, From the anger that burns you inside You can bellow, scream and hit But never a good man be Even if you were made a god I would not bow down to thee. Thou clingeth to life for what reason: To rule with an iron fist? In a mansion of chains and misery Where the only life is flies From the cemetery to the factory Never an angel shall follow And I shalt not weep for your passing And I shalt not suffer in sorrow.