The Gods of
the Copybook Headings
AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and
race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the
Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them
flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice,
outlast them all.
We were living in trees when they met us. They
showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would
certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and
Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we
followed the March of Mankind.
We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered
their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of
the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and
presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or
the lights had gone out in Rome.
With the Hopes that our World is built on they were
utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied
she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied
that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who
promised these beautiful things.
When the Cambrian measures were forming, They
promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars
of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us
bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said:
"Stick to the Devil you know."
On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised
the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by
loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men
lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said:
"The Wages of Sin is Death."
In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance
for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective
Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was
nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said:
"If you don't work you die."
Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their
smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and
began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two
make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to
explain it once more.
As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of
Man
There are only four things certain since Social
Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow
returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling
back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave
new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must
pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire
will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and
slaughter return!