You were better off than we are—you’d no uniform to tear.
“Poor benighted Mr. Caveman, if you’d only only known
Of our glorious progression—all your arrowheads of bone
Would have been replaced by rifles, and for little slings of stone
You’d have had a 4.7 gun—what joys you might have known!
“Things have changed, poor Mr. Caveman, since you went your simple way,
But we’re living still in caves, sir, dug most carefully in clay.
We call them trenches, dug-outs, saps; but, call them what we may,
They are made to hide our skins in, just as in your heathen day.
“Two thousand years ago came One—taught ‘Peace on earth, goodwill’;