There was an orange caveman
Who made himself a fancy home.
It was as glitzy as he could make it
Using gold and fancy stones.
He had enough wealth to
Employ many starving slaves.
He fed them as seldom as he could
**** near from womb to grave.

When he took folks to the top
Of his ostentatious dwelling,
You could swear within minutes
You could hear his ego swelling.
He had the softest of couches
And lookouts over the land.
He did his level best to be sure
His caveman home was grand.

His slaves would prepare for him
The most lavish of repasts
And guests were encouraged
To dig in as long as it lasts.
But at end of day all must
Get the hell out of there.
He always had a new young wife
And he didn't like to share.

But, somewhere along the tour
He would keep some internal pledge
And take you up to the top
And point out a jutting ledge.
He would comment on it's proximity
To his bed for the middle of the night.
He explained it was his privy
Quite handy from this lofty height.

He said only whites could use it,
He was quite stubborn about that.
Because the good people in life
Must be careful where they sat.
But he laughed at those below
And made no attempt to hedge.
He enjoyed the idea of their fate
And what comes from the white privy ledge.