In fiendish malice, wickedness and mirth,
Thou art indeed like man, great minds declare,
Thy wild, ferocious instinct will not spare,
A mutual fiend is in us all from birth.

Thy leer perpetual finds no thing of worth,
Mischief unto thy heart is ever rare,
With ceaseless jabbering thou dost soil the air,
Thou turbulent Eulenspiegel of the earth!

Yes, thou canst laugh at man, and at thine ease,
For he has worshiped thee, and doth adore
Unto this day thy unknown, hidden powers.
Yea! where amid a world of balmy trees,
Clad in the glory of a thousand towers,
The Indian sun showers fire upon Lahore.

In fiendish malice, wickedness and mirth,
Thou art indeed like man, great minds declare,
Thy wild, ferocious instinct will not spare,
A mutual fiend is in us all from birth.

Thy leer perpetual finds no thing of worth,
Mischief unto thy heart is ever rare,
With ceaseless jabbering thou dost soil the air,
Thou turbulent Eulenspiegel of the earth!

Yes, thou canst laugh at man, and at thine ease,
For he has worshiped thee, and doth adore
Unto this day thy unknown, hidden powers.
Yea! where amid a world of balmy trees,
Clad in the glory of a thousand towers,
The Indian sun showers fire upon Lahore.