American Empire

Might was Right when Caesar bled upon the stones of Rome,
Might was Right when Genghis led his hordes over Danube's foam,
And Might was Right when German troops poured down through Paris way,
It's the Gospel of the Ancient World and the Logic of Today.

Behind all Kings and Presidents - all government and law,
Are army-corps and canoneers to hold the world in awe.
And sword-strong races own the earth and ride the Conqueror's Car --
And liberty has never been won except by deeds of war.

What are the lords of horded gold - the silent Semite rings -
High pontiffs, priests and kings?
What are they but bold master-minds, best fitted for the fray
Who comprehend and vanquish by - the Logic of Today.

Cain's knotted club is scepter still - the "Right of Man" is fraud.
Christ's Ethics are for creeping things - true manhood smiles at "God".
For Might is Right when empires sink in storms of steel and flame;
And it is RIGHT when weakling breeds are hunted down like game.

Then what's the use of dreaming dreams, that each shall "get his own"
By forceless votes of meek-eyed thralls, who blindly sweat and moan?
No! A curse is on their cankered brains -- their very bones decay:
Go: Trace your fate in the Iron Game, it's the Logic of Today.

The strong must ever rule the weak, is grim Primordial Law.
On earth's broad racial threshing floor, the meek are beaten straw.
Then ride to power o'er foemen's neck - let NOTHING bar your way:
If you are FIT you'll Rule and Reign, is the Logic of Today.

You must prove you're Right by deeds of Might of splendor and reknown.
If need be, die on scaffold high in the morning's misty gray.
For "Liberty or Death" is still the Logic of Today.

Might was Right when Gideon led the "chosen" tribes of old.
And it was right when Titus burnt their temple roofed with gold:
And Might was Right from Bunker's Hill, to far Manilla Bay,
By land and flood it's writ in blood - the Gospel of Today.

"Put not your trust in princes" is a saying old and true
"Put not your hope in governments" translateth it anew.
All "Books of Law" and "Golden Rules" are fashioned to betray:
"The Survival of the Strongest" is the Gospel of Today.

Might was Right when Carthage flames lit up the Punic foam;
And when the naked steel of Gaul weighed down the spoil of Rome;
And Might was Right when Richmond fell - and at Thermopylae -
It's the logic of the Ancient World and the Gospel of Today.

Where pendant suns in millions swing around this whirling earth,
It's Might, It's Force that holds the brakes, and steers through Death and Birth:
Force governs all organic life, inspires all Right and Wrong.
It's natures plan to weed out man and TEST who are the strong.

Above the Senates brawl -
The maddening roar for gain,
Do you hear the Christmas Carol -
The felons clanking chains,
Behind yon prison walls,
Your leg-ironed comrade slaves,
While here in marble walls
Are harlots, knights and knaves.

Your comrades rot in goal -
The hungry cry for bread,
Your wives are thin and pale,
Their hearts are filled with dread,
And earth resounds with praise
In holy, heavenly tones,
While tigers prowl the land to crush
Your children's bones.

Ho! Men of New South Wales,
Hark! hear the fetters clink!
Are you but eunuch-churls
That only scream and slink?
If you were virile men,
You'd raise your strong right arm,
Beard tigers in their den
To guard your mates from harm.

You live the life of dogs,
You tug and scat and strain,
Your back the slaver flogs
While raking in his gain;
You see your sisters starve,
You see them on the marts,
You hear the tigers snarl
While rending out their hearts.

O men of New South Wales,
Behold your ruffian horde,
Who spurn you with their hoof,
And bash you with the sword;
Behold the butcher band
That shear and tan your hide.
Have you not grit to stand
And tame their wolfish pride?

You rise to voice your wrongs,
They club you for your pains,
Wheel out their murderous guns
To scatter, splash your brains;
They steal your public lands,
They steal the cash you earn,
Ho! Cringe to their commands,
You're only dogs not men.

In glittering halls
They feast - Harlots, knights and knaves -
While inside prison walls
Your legironed comrade slaves.
Ho! Men of New South Wales,
Hark! hear the fetters clink!
Are ye but eunuch-slaves,
That only scream and slink?

"Some slay with sword and some with sword.
Some have no battle plan,
Some stab with venom's subtle word,
Each does the best he can,
And each man gets what he can win-
Great wealth, great love, or fame;
The conqueror gets his just reward,
The conquered gets his shame,
The weak ones wear a crown of thorns,
Or bleat in living hell,
The strong man crowns himself with gold,
And all the world is well,
And each man gains what others lose,
No use to reason why,
Each plants his heel on fallen foes,
By Love, or Law, or Lie."

Hate for Hate,
and ruth for ruth.

Eye for eye,
and tooth for tooth.

Scorn for scorn,
and smile for smile.

Love for Love,
and guile for guile.

War for war ,
and woe for woe.

Blood for blood,
and Blow for Blow!!