There were very few questions bothering Willy
But one was like an auger bit -
It bored into him willy-nilly
and the brush fell as if he were hit.
Just then there came
a-visiting
To the cigar-king Henry Clay
Whiter than a flock of cloudlings
The sublimest
Sugar King stalked his way.
I beg your pardon, Mr. Bragg,
Why must sugar - Whitest whiteness,
Be made by Negroes - blackest black?
It badly suits your pale moustaches -
Such black cigars go better with a Negro lip;
And if your coffee needs sugar-splashes
Why don't you yourself make it?
The Negro wheezed thru smashed-in nose,
Took up the brush and held his jaw.
Whence was he to know
that with those questions
With those questions...
...one should apply
to Comintern, Moscow?
LENIN
Workers of all countries
and the oppressed peoples of the world
UNITE!
THE END
Translation based on Ettiene Karnot and O. Polenova (1933)