There’s some who look on history
As pages waiting to be filled,
They seize the day and shake it hard
Until all wild oats are tilled.
And some of us view history
As what was going on besides,
While we were busy being born,
Or catching up with last year’s tides.
There’s those who sit in judgement,
And there’s those who have to dust the throne –
There’s some whose names are chiselled down,
And some who have to work the stone.
And so it goes, and so it went,
And history will keep the score –
There’s those who fill the greatest tomes,
And those who sell them door-to-door.