shame.
To fuss thus with my chosen race, my ally since time dates
Proclaimed that Kultur and the Turk are well matched running mates.
And tho I've watched hell's orgies, and stood by in fiendish glee,
I quit you, Bill, these Turkish stunts are far too much for me.

When officers from Kultur's class stand by and watch a Turk
Just disembowel a mother, why, Bill, it makes me shirk.
It makes me shudder and I've watched the master fiends of hell,
But none of them have brains like you, none do their work so well.
When Turk and German flood with oil, then set a school ablaze
And bayonet the babies, as they stumble thru the haze,
I yield the crown to you, Dear Bill, my pupil passes me
You take the role of Master and your pupil I will be.

I've worked for hell's best interests, my master now appears
For when your name is mentioned, the imps break into cheers.
The gavel of the poor damned souls, that long has rung their knell,
Is passed to you, I abdicate and now you rule in hell.
For years I've done the best I could, now I realize I'm thru,
And in the future I'm content to live and learn from you.
Your earthly work is finished, soon in hell you'll carve your name
And I shudder when I realize that hell won't be the same.

PROSPECTING

Looking for placer pangar,
Loafing about in the hills,
Getting your grub with a rifle,
Taking your drink from rills.
Getting your bed from the spruce tree,
Taking your course by your dreams,
Just camping alone in the mountains,
Siwashing along the streams.

Locating the hind sight on Nature,
Traveling alone and far,
Thinking with no one to guide you,
Digesting the things that are.
Back trailing the life that's past you,
Peeping at what's in store,
Pondering over life's mistakes,
Wondering, how many more.

Dreaming alone of childhood days,
Regretting some things that are past,
Recalling lost opportunities,
And chances too good to last.
Living your whole life over,
Recalling the daily grind,
Thanking your God that it's over,
Glad that you've left it behind.

But still regretting your errors,
Sad for some things you have done,
Wishing that you had coppered some plays
As you count them one by one.
Now living a life, clean, decent,
For man never sins alone,
Getting a grip on your ego,
Coming at last to your own.

You dream and you hunt all summer
Till you notice a chill in the air,
Then you think of your warm snug cabin
And you feel