Revolt

IN the hollow voice of poverty
He called upon his Lord:
‘Oh, curse,’ he eried, ‘these plutocrats
In fancy clothes and tall silk hats,
With gold in coffers stored!’

He climbed upon a soap box and
With groans and cries he said,
‘This reign of wealth will soon be past,
This great injustice cannot last,
The poor man must be fed!’

Around him gathered many more;
They soon took up his cry:
‘In this free land there’s got to be
Democracy, Equality —
This tyrant Wealth must die!’

They gathered round in ragged clothes,
With hunger in their eyes;
Swore vengeance on the plutocrats,
In fancy clothes and tall silk hats,
Who would not heed their cries.

Their fury grew, they screamed for blood
To flow for Freedom’s sake;
They fought a war to make them free,
For Liberty, Equality —
Burned rich men at the stake.

They drank much blood to quench their thirst,
Then cried with joyful pride,
‘We’ve made the plutocrats all flee,
We’ve gained, for all, Equality;
The Lord was on our side.’

And each man whispered to himself,
‘At last I’ve Liberty.
Now I can be a plutocrat,
In fancy clothes and tall silk hat,
And have men bow to me!’