Found In The Archives Of A British-South African Gentlemen's Club Poem by Gary Jurgens

Things have not changed in a few hundred years! ! ! ! !

YE KAFFRE

Ye kaffre is a noisesome thinge
Which stinketh in ye gloome
And every time it entereth in
Ye knowe tis in the roome.

It breaketh everye lyttle thinge
Which cometh to its hande
And of ye niceties of life
It doth not understande.

It eateth like ye hungrye steede
And stealeth by its habit
It loveth lazing all daye longe
And breedeth like ye rabbit.

It danceth like ye dervish wilde
It chanteth loude and longe
It sweateth in ye burninge sun
And maketh ghastly ponge.

Ye kaffre is a lazy thinge
Which always acteth dumb
It hath no great ambition
Except sitting on its bum.

Ye kaffre is ye noisesome thinge
Which through ye centuries slumbered
It serves us right for waking hym
For now we? re bloody lumbered.




Author unknown (circa 1750) .