Foreign Devils

Foreign Devils There’s an Indian in a Indians world. As crooked as a walnut tree, but more devout than you’ll ever be. I’d love to be a ships captain sailing o’er the sea, dwell in eternity, aside a mermaid. Here come the unforgiving Englishmen all dressed up in red coats, liken little tin soldiers, come over in boats. Here the sun burns everything to dust It’s no place for the righteous or just. So with clamour, sound your battle horn, certainly not an invite to tea. Watch out for Allah, Muhamid too, lest cut ye all ta pieces, Stick ye back with glue. Infidels Mine tears are for Moses, all thine prophets too. Mine tears are for Abraham, wasn’t he a Jew? Heathens sharpen up your spears. Wanton harpies tarted up with paint, go tell the foreign devils to pray for their saints.