A Pict Song

By: Rudyard~Kipling

Verse 1

Rome never heeds where she treads. Always the heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts and our heads. And Rome never heeds when we bawl.

Chorus 1

We are the little folk, we. Too little to love or to hate. But leave us alone and you'll see Just how we can drag down the State.

Verse 2

The sentries pass on, that is all. And we gather behind them in hordes, And plot to reconquer the Wall With only our tongues for our swords.

Verse 3

We are the worm in the wood, We are the rot at the root, We are the taint in the blood, We are the thorn in the foot!

Verse 4

Mistletoe choking an oak, Rats gnawing cables in two, Moths making holes in a cloak, How they must love what they do.

Verse 5

Yes, and we little folk too! We are as busy as they, Working our works out of view. But watch, and you'll see them someday.

Verse 6

No, indeed we are not strong. But we know people who are! And we, we will guide them along To crush and destroy you in war.

Verse 7

Yes, we have always been slaves, And, yes, we will still be their slaves. But you, you will die of the shame. And then we will dance on your graves.