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 we
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