This missionary meant to take your Arabs
And crush their souls beneath his mailéd boot
Like crawling scarabs.
And if they still ignored his ponderous heel,
If still their faith in Allah stood unshaken,
He looked to stimulate a local zeal
For heathen bacon!
Mehmoud, it is too much! Sick Man you are,
Yet in your veins I hope enough of vigour is
To tell this William he has gone too far