DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Leprechaun, v. 1, issue 4, March 1945

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Leprechaun, v. 1, issue 4, March 1945

Page 3

L e p r e c h a u n    3

FELIX:

   * * * The Simple Lot * * *

   We are the simple people.
   We are the men of the rolling fields,
   The smoking factories,
   The clattering offices.

   We are the hands.

   We are the hands tilling
   The brown earth
   In the  early morning sunlight.

   We are the hands guiding
   The giant machines.

   We are the hands of concrete
   And steel,
   Building skyward pinnacles.

   We are the simple minds.

   We build a nation,
   And know not what we do.

   We grow the fields of wheat,
   And eat the crusts of bread.

   We fashion the tools,
   And strain our fingers to the task.

   We build the towers,
   And call the hovels our homes.

   We forge the steel of history,
   And pass unknown.

   We are the simple people,
   And what is our destiny?

LOUIS DE GENESTE:

   * * * Sky-Gems * * *

The stars gleam down from the heavens above,
Like collosal gems set in the Rings of Gods.
Occasionally, one falls to earth in a streak of flame.
Men rush to retrieve it,
Only to find
That is has been blackened
By their mortal touch.

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L e p r e c h a u n 3 FELIX: * * * The Simple Lot * * * We are the simple people. We are the men of the rolling fields, The smoking factories, The clattering offices. We are the hands. We are the hands tilling The brown earth In the early morning sunlight. We are the hands guiding The giant machines. We are the hands of concrete And steel, Building skyward pinnacles. We are the simple minds. We build a nation, And know not what we do. We grow the fields of wheat, And eat the crusts of bread. We fashion the tools, And strain our fingers to the task. We build the towers, And call the hovels our homes. We forge the steel of history, And pass unknown. We are the simple people, And what is our destiny? LOUIS DE GENESTE: * * * Sky-Gems * * * The stars gleam down from the heavens above, Like collosal gems set in the Rings of Gods. Occasionally, one falls to earth in a streak of flame. Men rush to retrieve it, Only to find That is has been blackened By their mortal touch.