The hand that signed the paper felled a city；

Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath，

Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country；

These five kings did a king to death.

The mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder，

The finger joints are cramped with chalk；

A goose's quill has put an end to murder

That put an end to talk.

The hand that signed the treaty bred a fever，

And famine grew， and locusts came；

Great is the hand the holds dominion over

Man by a scribbled name.

The five kings count the dead but do not soften

The crusted wound nor pat the brow；

A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven；

Hands have no tears to flow.