We toil in this earth
Whisper not to the common man
the designs of his earth.
For he has sketched his plan
to toil for all his worth.
Point not to the gentle lad
the tower of ancients overbearing.
For he still callowly clad
dreams of his Ziggurat standing.
Care not the dashing salmon
the trail of his watery enemy.
Worry not the arduous man
the plans of his unbound misery.
Whisper not to the common man
the designs of his earth.
For he has sketched his plan
to toil for all his worth.
