by R. W. Haynes
Cuauhtemoc crossed the river, his hopes were high,
And how his prospects glittered in the sun
As he organized his wishes and said good-bye
To all the pyramids of gold he had won!
“No friction, no traction,” he said quietly,
“No conflict, no action,” and, when he had found
A place he could defend easily,
He built cash connections with everyone around.
And when the moon shot down a storm of rays
To poison this king, and Orion frowned,
And gravity tweaked and twisted the earth for days,
The chief hummed along with that ferocious sound
And sometimes rose and danced now and then
And sang “No friction, no traction,” once again.