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