Watch our master’s whip of power
Waving high above his cheeks,
While its swishing tune, in keeping
Blasphemously thus he speaks:
“See how gay and many colored
Are these knots so closely tied,
Like a maze of snakes entwining,
Are these squirming straps of hide.
Listen how harmoniously
Hisses every single snake,
How he twists and turns and cringes,
Your bent backs to overtake
And to make its fangs of venom
Seem less cruel, feel more tame,
To each motley colored viper,
I will give some lofty name.
Look! This strap is FAITH OF MANKIND
That commands the slaving hordes;
Bear on earth your masters’ burdens
Up in heaven, seek rewards,
And this swishing strand is JUSTICE
From your backs its hide was torn,
With your blood, theron is written
“I’m your master, slaves forlorn.”
This firm knot is labelled CUSTOM:
KNOWLEDGE, HABIT, all are here;
Even LIBERTY and ORDER
In this cruel farce appear.
HUMANISM is this leather,
TRUTH and HONOR in this whip;
All these attributes to pick from,
Sing and swish here in my grip.
Yes, your father and your grandad
Were whipped too, with these same straps,
They’re a heritage of ages,
Consecrated by time’s lapse.
If you wish, I’ll decorate them
With new ornaments and knacks
Just as long as my fist holds them,
You will feel them on your backs.
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