Cleopatra on the Nile,
Set your sail and drift awhile.
Keep on going and you'll soon
Be at the Mountains of the Moon.
Pygmies there will bring you gold;
Place it in your barge's hold.
Honey, fruit, and many a flower;
Anything that's in their power.
From the Forest there will come
Music by the flute and drum:
Watch our dance and you will see
How your little friends love thee.
Your enemies are far away,
So with us we hope you'll stay:
They cannot find you in our home,
Even though your rivals roam.
|
No one knows the Pygmies' secret;
But to you, Our Queen, we'll speak it.
Let us take you to our City,
Long a ruin but very pretty.
So for many days they went
To the place that they had meant.
Through the Forest, green and dim;
At waterfalls they'd stop and swim.
At last they came upon a block
Of smooth and gleaming pure-white rock.
From the Forest they emerged
Onto the massive city's verge.
Along the spacious avenues
They wandered, and oft-times perused:
Whoever could have built these places
Surpassed by far all other races.
|
Our ancestors in ancient times
Had visitors from many climes:
And they (before from us did part)
Found inspiration for their art.
The Sphinx you see, so very old,
Was copied in your land (we're told).
The Temple here, so long vacated,
At Ephesus was replicated.
Hanging gardens once abounded,
Now by forest they're surrounded;
And if you look most carefully,
A stately pleasure-dome you'll see:
But Pygmies tired of hewing stone,
Now the Forest is our home.
We gave it up, there's no regret;
Our happiness you'll not forget.
|