Those Evil Few

With wealth, the likes of Helen's Troy,
There are these few that think they're coy—
They seem so modest, but I warn,
Their modesty is but a ploy.

They hung two 'thieves' the other morn.
In fact, the day my son was born.
Their crime? Some stolen fruit, some grain ...
Two homeless, hungry men forlorn.

I felt indignant, bitter pain,
As I stood watching through the rain.
If I were starving, like these two,
Would I steal food and thus be slain?

Who knows how many men they slew,
But here is this, and it is true,
That if they touched my starving son,
I'd grab a sword and run 'em through!

For by their greed their wealth was won—
Our wherewithal is nearly none.
Those evil few, so fatly fed,
Impoverished me and everyone!

And still the hungry hang there dead,
Condemned by laws those few have said.
And now my hunger has me torn:
Obey their laws, or steal their bread?