Happy Heathen

The heathen's not efficient;
   He sits down in the sun
And doesn't care a tuppn'y dump
   When the day's work's begun.
He works to eat and eats to live,
   All day he'll dance and sing;
And if you mention overtime
   He laughs like anything.

But we are most efficient!
   And, goodness! Look at us!
Our nights are filled with restless dreams,
   Our days with fret and fuss.
And we can have depressions
   And modern things like that,
And monoplanes and motor cars
   And trousers and a hat.

The heathen's not efficient;
   He does not value gold;
And when we'd teach him of its worth
   He simply won't be told.
He'll hang gold coins about his neck
   For foolish ornament,
While half a bread-fruit or a ham
   Bring him complete content.

Oh, we are most efficient;
   We'd pile up heaps of gold
And leave it to ungrateful heirs
   When we descend to mould.
But the heathen's not efficient;
   He is lazy, free, unkempt,
And from the highly civilized
   Earns nothing but contempt.