When it all was over Poor Humbaba was no more His vital organs spread across The valley floor His cedars lay across the barren mountainsides Tossed about like matchsticks as he died. Gilgamesh took cedar wood And constructed a great door That reached up to the heavens From the steppes below As if murder had a purpose, Had some greater meaning Don’t you know. For such are the ways of men Who use power to destroy Ancient trees and forests Are nothing more than toys The land was wasted, Enkidu gave pause: Oh Gilgamesh, Was this our cause? But Gilgamesh was not afraid, Now that he’d killed his foe Swagger comes back easily When it’s apropos And if the God Enlil should ask us Why we did these things, Why we’ll tell him quite frankly: For the pleasure that it brings! Gilgamesh and Enkidu Were still not done After killing Humbaba They killed all his seven sons Cut off their heads Cut out their tongues Their axes weighed one hundred pounds Or so the song is sung
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