The Spoilers Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD EEFF GHI JJKKLLMM KKNNOOPP| Ye are the Great White People masters and lords of the earth | A |
| Spreading your stern dominion over the world's wide girth | A |
| Here where my fathers hunted since Time's primordial morn | B |
| To our land's sweet fecund places you came with your kine and corn | B |
| Mouthing your creed of Culture to cover a baser creed | C |
| Your talk was of White Man's magic but your secret god was Greed | C |
| And now that your generations to the second the third have run | D |
| White Man what of my country Answer what have you done | D |
| - | |
| Now the God of my Simple People was a simple kindly God | E |
| Meting his treasure wisely that sprang from this generous sod | E |
| With never a beast too many and never a beast too few | F |
| Thro' the lean years and the fruitful he held the balance true | F |
| Then the White Lords came in their glory and their cry was 'More Yet more ' | - |
| And to make them rich for a season they filched Earth's age old store | G |
| And they hunted my Simple People hunters of yester year | H |
| And they drove us into the desert while they wrought fresh deserts here | I |
| - | |
| They ravaged the verdant uplands and spoiled wealth ages old | J |
| Laid waste with their pumps and sluices for a gunny bag of gold | J |
| They raided the primal forests and the kind rain bringing trees | K |
| That poured wealth over the lowlands thro' countless centuries | K |
| They fed their kine on the grasslands crowding them over the land | L |
| Till blade and root in the lean years gave place to hungry sand | L |
| Then warned too late of their folly the White Lords grew afraid | M |
| And they cried to their great god Science but Science could not aid | M |
| - | |
| This have you done to our country lords of the air and the seas | K |
| This to the hoarded riches of countless centuries | K |
| Life yielding loam uncovered unsheltered in the drought | N |
| In the floods your hand unbridled to the age old sea drifts out | N |
| You have sold man's one true birthright for a White Man's holiday | O |
| And the smothering sands drift over where once green fields turn grey | O |
| Filched by the White Man's folly to pamper the White Lords' vice | P |
| And leave to your sons a desert where you found a paradise | P |
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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