Of all the deaf old bones Sceptre and crown Of all the kings and emperors Must tumble down They creak, stench, but all decay And in the dust be equal made Through sun, wind and sand With the poor crooked scythe and spade
Each man od ivory and bone Sceptre and crown Of noble tribe of hybrid clan Must tumble down Spider weaves a pretty web And in the dust be equal made Brethren on this day With poor crooked scythe and spade
Figure-flingers, faceless mask Sceptre and crown Of all those blind and buried years Must tumble down Career, fall and clatter And in the dust be equal made Now all the kings and emperors are With poor crooked scythe and spade
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