Ah, noble Prometheus, he sacrficed to much for us.
For all of eternity he must remain chained to this rock in sun or rain.
Every foul morning the eagle swoops down to ravage his body and cause him great pain.
Every evening his body heals, only repeat this terrible or-deal.
A lofty gift he gave to us all, a gift, alas, that caused his downfall.
He angered great Zeus, who could not abide the danger of men rising near to his side.
’T was fire held forth in his hand. It lit up the earth and shone across the land
so that man might rise from humble beginnings. Praise to Prometheus, man is singing!