The Executor by Mrs. Oliphant - HTML preview

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THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES.

A NEW SONG.

HAVE you heard of this question the Doctors among,

Whether all living things from a Monad have sprung?

This has lately been said, and it now shall be sung,

Which nobody can deny.

Not one or two ages sufficed for the feat,

It required a few millions the change to complete;

But now the thing’s done, and it looks rather neat,

Which nobody can deny.

The original Monad, our great-great-grandsire,

To little or nothing at first did aspire;

But at last to have offspring it took a desire,

Which nobody can deny.

This Monad becoming a father or mother,

By budding or bursting, produced such another;

And shortly there followed a sister or brother,

Which nobody can deny.

But Monad no longer designates them well

They’re a cluster of molecules now, or a cell;

But which of the two, Doctors only can tell,

Which nobody can deny.

These beings, increasing, grew buoyant with life,

And each to itself was both husband and wife;

And at first, strange to say, the two lived without strife,

Which nobody can deny.

But such crowding together soon troublesome grew,

And they thought a division of labour would do;

So their sexual system was parted in two,

Which nobody can deny.

END

The Executor by Mrs. Oliphant - HTML preview

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