Classic Poem

(1)

The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do?
" For the Constitution has found its feet:
" What'll I do? O what'll I do?
" The Bird of Liberty preens its wings in a rose-girt land,
" And Tyranny's vein is severed at last by Justice's hand,
" And the Despot's eyes are blinded by Freedom's gleaming brand,
" And the autocrats are, it would seem, dead beat,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(2)

" I, the Devil, with this vexation am now laid low;
" All the despots are dead, and I am grown old with woe;
" In very truth I am sorry and sick at the way things go
" I'm exposed to the finger of scorn in the street:
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(3)

" Men of sense! I am mad: 'Twere best you should let me alone!
" Lest I arise and break your heads with stick or with stone!
" For the autocrats all are uprooted and scattered and overthrown,
" And the Flag of Freedom the people greet:
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(4)

" For many a year from all and sundry I sucked the gore,
" And stole the hard-won moneys I found in the widow's store,
" And afflicted the heart of the people with sorrows and griefs galore:
" But now we're beggars who roam the street,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(5)

" Deceit is dead, and cruel oppression hath passed away:
" Hypocrisy's crushed and godless bribery's lost its sway:
" Fallen and dead is the despot, his head with grief grown grey:
" His sighs to heaven rise swift and fleet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(6)

" For seven months this country no Constitution knew:
" With our whips and our scourges the backs of the peasants were black and blue.
" But now from the libertine's tables the chickens and game and stew
" Have taken their flight with hurrying feet:
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(7)

" Heavens! What hath become of our curses and oaths and blows?
" Our pavilions and pomps, and the thrones and truncheons which we dispose?
" The sticks and scourges and rods that were ready in ranks and rows?
" What hath arrested our nimble feet?
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

(8)

" What hath become of our slaughter of peasants and torments grim?
" What of our roasted lambs and our goblets filled to the brim?
" What of our sherbets sweet and the succulent capon's limb?
" Whither is gone our delectable meat?
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "
The wily old Devil did groan and greet,
" What'll I do? O what'll I do? "

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