'Tis written in the Book of old,
Of a statue, tall and bold,
Made of gold, silver, brass, and iron,
And clay mingled with feet of iron.
The head of gold, so pure and bright,
The Golden Kingdom, ruled with might,
But soon to fall to the next in line,
As revealed in the prophet's divine.
The chest and arms of silver made,
The next Kingdom, so it's said,
Shall rule the earth with less esteem,
A fleeting reign, a passing dream.
Then brass, the belly and the thighs,
The third Kingdom, with a great surprise,
Shall conquer all, with power untold,
And leave the world in awe and cold.
The fourth, the legs of iron strong,
A Kingdom harsh, with rule so wrong,
Shall trample all, and bring forth woe,
As the prophet's words doth show.
And last, the feet of clay and iron,
The final Kingdom, in turmoil and din,
Shall see its end, as all must do,
And usher in a world anew.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen low,
As foretold in the prophet's flow,
But fear not, for a new age is nigh,
When all shall be made right and high.
