Classic Poem

Heni lived, and Heni died,
Forty-five hundred years ago,
This is his skeleton bleached and dried,
Snug in a box in Mummy Row;
How he fought, and how he fared,
Never a chronicle doth show,
And of the dangers that he dared,
Forty-five hundred years ago.

Just his dry bones in a case,
The oldest chap in Mummy Row;
Whether his thought was broad or base,
Never a syllable I know;
Making the rounds I found him there,
Careless of years that ebb and flow,
Shut from the sweet and balmy air,
Forty-five hundred years ago.

This his fate and this his fame,
Children come and stand tiptoe,
People pause and read the name,
The pioneer of Mummy Row;
By the Nilus' fruitful tide,
Where lily and the lotus grow,
Heni lived, and Heni died,
Forty-five hundred years ago.