He lived in a cave by the seas,
He lived upon oysters and foes,
But his list of forbidden degrees,
An extensive morality shows;
Geological evidence goes
To prove he had never a pan,
But he shaved with a shell when he chose,—
‘ T was the manner of Primitive Man.
He worshipp'd the rain and the breeze,
He worshipp'd the river that flows,
And the Dawn, and the Moon, and the trees,
And bogies, and serpents, and crows;
He buried his dead with their toes
Tucked-up, an original plan,
Till their knees came right under their nose,—
‘ T was the manner of Primitive Man.
His communal wives, at his ease,
He would curb with occasional blows;
Or his State had a queen, like the bees
( As another philosopher trows ):
When he spoke, it was never in prose,
But he sang in a strain that would scan,
For ( to doubt it, perchance, were morose )
‘ T was the manner of Primitive Man!
MAX, proudly your Aryans pose,
But their rigs they undoubtedly ran,
For, as every Darwinian knows,
‘ T was the manner of Primitive Man!