The Devil

Men don't believe in a devil now,
As their fathers used to do;
They've forced the door of the broadest creed
To let his majesty through;
There isn't a print of his cloven foot
Or a fiery dart from his bow
To be found in earth and air today,
For the world has voted so.

But who is mixing the fatal draught
That palsies heart and brain,
And loads the earth of each passing year
With ten hundred thousand slain?
Who blights the bloom of the land today
With the fiery breath of hell?
If the devil isn't and never was
Won't somebody rise and tell?

Won't somebody step to the front forthwith,
And make his bow and show
How the frauds and the crimes of the day spring up?
For surely we want to know.
The devil was fairly voted out,
And of course the devil is gone;
But simple people would like to know
Who carries his business on?
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