We are the rot at the root!
Some of the most ancient inhabitants of Britain – especially of northeast Scotland – were a race of small people whom the Romans called Picti because of their custom of painting or tattooing their bodies blue. Apparently their religious practices included getting intoxicated on fermented honey. The Romans built Hadrian’s Wall to keep the Picts and other wild tribes of Scotland out of Roman-ruled Britain. The poem articulates all the futile fury of the powerless.
However, the poem is not really about Picts and Romans. It is a metaphor to any of the weak of society, such as clerks and bookkeepers, who are condemned to dull, mindless jobs. Such people often have a subconscious desire to sabotage the work of the organization (in the days before word processors, I have noticed how often did a typist make a typo in the most strategic place, subconsciously calculated to discredit my whole report!):
“Leave us alone and you’ll see
How we can drag down the State!”…
A Pict Song
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 taint in the blood! We are the thorn in the foot! Mistletoe killing an oak - Rats gnawing cables in two - Moths making holes in a cloak - How they must love what they do! Yes - and we Little Folk too, We are as busy as they - Working our works out of view - Watch, and you'll see it some day! No indeed! We are not strong, But we know Peoples that are. Yes, and we'll guide them along To smash and destroy you in War! We shall be slaves just the same? Yes, we have always been slaves, But you - you will die of the shame, And then we shall dance on your graves! 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 taint in the blood! We are the thorn in the foot!