Bring but the man who knows not youth
And bring ye lies from every pen.
And let this man produce a truth
That would gainsay a baby hen.

Yea, let him place before our eyes
A just example good and true,
And shew to all before he dies
What would compare, my chick, to you.

Let him produce one single life
From out his maze of muddy lore
And I would gladly yield the knife
And let him glory in my gore.

Yea, let him prove it as the truth;
That at creation he was there,
Like as our God has done forsooth
That we may to him tribute bear.

Let him without an atoms start
Bring out a living, growing cell,
And in it all a life and heart
And let it now our doubting quell.

But reason surely hast a rule
Else neither truth or wisdom dwell.
Known by his prating is the fool
That was not there and can not tell.