’Why not?’ said I. ’Why not? But no. I won’t. I’ve never had my go. I’ve not had all the world can give. Death by and by, but first I’ll live. The world owes me my time of times, And that time’s coming now, by crimes.’
A madness took me then. I felt I’d like to hit the world a belt. I felt that I could fly through air, A screaming star with blazing hair, A rushing comet, crackling, numbing The folk with fear of judgment coming, A ’Lijah in a fiery car Coming to tell folk what they are.
’That’s what I’ll do,’ I shouted loud, ’I’ll tell this sanctimonious crowd, This town of window-peeping, prying, Maligning, peering, hinting, lying, Male and female human blots Who would, but daren’t be, whores and sots, That they’re so steeped in petty vice That they’re less excellent than lice, That they’re so soaked in petty virtue That touching one of them will dirt you, Dirt you with the stain of mean Cheating trade and going between, Pinching, starving, scraping, hoarding Spying through the chinks of boarding To see if Sue the prentice lean Dares to touch the margarine. Fawning, cringing, oiling boots, Raging in the crowd’s pursuits, Flinging stones at all the Stephens, Standing firm with all the evens, Making hell for all the odd, All the lonely ones of God, Those poor lonely ones who find Dogs more mild than human kind. For dogs,’ I said, ’are nobles born To most of you, you cockled corn. I’ve known dogs to leave their dinner, Nosing a kind heart in a sinner. Poor old Crafty wagged his tail The day I first came home from jail, When all my folk, so primly clad, Glowered black and thought me mad, And muttered how they’d been respected, While I was what they’d all expected. (I’ve thought of that old dog for years, And of how near I come to tears.)
’But you, you minds of bread and cheese, Are less divine than that dog’s fleas. You suck blood from kindly friends, And kill them when it serves your ends. Double traitors, double black, Stabbing only in the back, Stabbing with the knives you borrow From the friends you bring to sorrow. You stab all that’s true and strong; Truth and strength you say are wrong; Meek and mild, and sweet and creeping, Repeating, canting, cadging, peeping, That’s the art and that’s the life To win a man his neighbour’s wife. All that’s good and all that’s true, You kill that, so I’ll kill you.’