No great queries worried Willie
but one question had him stumped.
As that question drilled through Willie --
from his arm the big brush slumped.
Too bad that just then
heaved his way
toward the King of Cigars, Henry Clay,
in pluperfect whiteness and big jowl wag,
his royal sugar highness
Mr. Bragg.
Beg yo' pardon Mr. Bragg,
Aint it funny yo' lily white sugar
Black man makes and puts it in the bag?
With yo' white color black cigar's sho' out o' place;
goes lots better on the black man's face.
Sugar in yo' coffee?-- Help yo'self, help;
Be so kind, sir make it yo'self.
One hand on his brush Willy presses,
the other to his bruised cheek goes.
How should Willie know
that such questions
Such questions...
...one addresses
to Comintern, Moscow?
LENIN
Workers of all countries
and the oppressed peoples of the world
UNITE!
THE END
Translation based on anon @ EconJobRumours, ca. 2021