Descendants Of Smith Lyrics - Harper Roy

He woke up in a crashing din 

Half in a dream he grabbed his sword 

They smashed the door down and rushed in 

"What the Hell" was his last word 

He staggered out into the snow 

And left a stain that didn't go 

Until it was found in four million and three 

By descendants of Smith 

His snuff box and his shoulder pack 

Were sold in 'Antiquarian' 

Someone else's bric-a-brac 

A taste of times long since bygone 

The stain was sinking in a vice 

Two feet deep in solid ice 

Until it was found in four million and three 

By descendants of Smith 

His blood was put in their machine 

Which reproduced him at great speed 

Engineered a female gene 

And put them in a room to breed 

With esperanto anecdotes 

Resuscitated microdots 

The descendant of Smith 

Ran a colony of centaurs 

Roamed a zoo with mastodon 

And never knew of his mentors