Explore "A Pict Song" by Rudyard Kipling on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Rome never looks where she treads. / Always her heavy hooves fall, / On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads; / And Rome never heeds when we bawl. / Her sentries pass on -- that is all, / And we gather behind them in hordes, / And plot to reconquer the Wall, / With only our tongues for our swords.
We are the Little Folk -- we! / Too little to love or to hate. / Leave us alone and you'll see / How we can drag down the State! / We are the worm in the wood! / We are the rot at the root! / We are the germ in the blood! / We are the thorn in the foot!