A labourer’s eulogy

Steal from the rich and give to the poor,
They listen, watch, learn and more,
Plagued by words of bitter acid and woe,
But look blindly at pretty graphics sprayed across another mans wood. Sherwood Forest toils at nature’s one true foe.

What happened to those rich who’s lives are stolen? Those who worked and paint their own panorama? They lost wives, the wheel of life ‘shanked’ by fatal knives, betrayed by morality, their lawns lay in wait, for the wicked and sly, lounging in large four bedroom flats beyond ruby-studded hell’s gate.

Yet had they worked for all their sugar? Words earn love and sour judgement, but betray those who work at desk and cooker, thankful to lucifer, his little hat green, for those who labour will suffer forever more; their reaped riches stolen and given to the poor.