Rome never looks where she treads.
Always her heavy hooves fall,
On our bellies, our hearts, and our heads;
And Rome never heeds when we squall.
Her sentries pa** on and that's all,
And we gather behind them in hordes,
And plot to re-conquer the Wall,
With only our tongues for our swords.
We are the Little Folk—we!
Too little to love or to hate.
But leave us alone and you'll see
How fast we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!
Mistletoe k**ing an oak—
Rats gnawing cables in two—
Moths making holes in a cloak—
How they must love what they do!
Yes—and we Little Folk too,
We are busy as they—
Working our works out of view—
Watch, and you'll see it some day!
For we are the Little Folk—we!
Too little to love or to hate.
But leave us alone and you'll see
How fast we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!
No , maybe we are not strong,
But we know Peoples that are.
And gladly we'll guide them along,
To smash and destroy you in War!
Well we shall be slaves just the same,
But when have we never been slaves?
And you—you will die of the shame,
And then we shall dance on your graves!
For we are the Little Folk—we!
Too little to love or to hate.
But leave us alone and you'll see
How fast we can drag down the State!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the taint in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!