Black Projections

He cursed the black projections as they grew,

He knew it wasn’t quite the thing to do.

But the natives from the town

Turned their backs upon his gown

That he’d won off some old Hindustan guru.

He cursed the black projections that he found,

He ripped them off and flung them to the ground.

But the natives played at jacks,

With their hands behind their backs,

And sold little bags of white stuff by the pound.

He cursed the black projections on his arm,

When he saw them there he cried out in alarm.

But the natives turned away,

They were not inclined to stay,

And they went and got new jobs upon the farm.

And when the black projections had control,

He found it very difficult to bowl.

But the natives in the slips,

Stood with hands upon their hips,

And dined on cottage tea and Dover sole.

I thank you.