So the red imps raced in hellish haste
To seek for the very worst.
And when in the stew this soul they threw . . .
The Devil groaned and cursed . . .
THAT . . . Newspaper-Truth-raper . . HERE . . . at THIS time . . . !
The lecherous, treacherous creature of slime . . . !
The vomit-brained harlot all scarlet with crime . . . !!!
And the Devil groaned and cursed.
Now each poor imp has got to limp,
Their bruises ache and swell,
The soul they had was stinking bad—
Too rotten rank for hell!
And the caldron hubbled and bubbled and boiled,
And the Devil's ravishing treat was spoiled,
And he SHRANK from the vapors that curled and coiled—
TOO ROTTEN RANK FOR HELL!
YOU PREACHERS OF "MORALS"
You bolster Exploitation with your creed
Though blood upon its whiplash never dries.
You do the work of hired thugs and spies;
Like them you serve the System for your "feed."
The World's great Wrong cries out: you do not heed,
But drivel rot with heaven-uplifted eyes,
Then creep away behind a cloud of lies
To kiss the palsied hand of murderous Greed.
This is the work for which you get your pay:
To keep the world unchanged in sullen "peace"
Where serf-men toil at tasks that never cease,
Heartbrokenly from bitter day to day—
The Crime upheld by preachers and police
Where Lust, unhindered, battens on its prey!
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