here is the store house of Her Majesty
well guarded by sentry
but looks are free


call this the rayless and benighted age
witches by tallow candles shifted

shifted their shapes
here is the pestle and mortar
that ground the poison seed

a lute, a suit for jousting
and the poems of a balladeer
when all the Latin books were copied off

in golden script
well hoarded away in
a monastery crypt


superstition
superstition beyond belief


over mountain, over dune and over sea
crude map and compass lead the caravan

and lead the fleet
here's the loot and plunder
they bore home

ivory tusk inlaid with precious stone
raw silk and spices by the barrel load
a soft skin drum with mallets

of human bone

a world wide rampage

rampage of greed

so here the tour concludes

The Colonial Wing
the rooms of the most refined
museum property

an early pair of spectacles
a claw footed divan
ornate clocks with birds that strut

on the half hours and quarter hours

hear them chime