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.