Phil Roberts


I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry

The rich folk in their castles
With shiny ivory walls,
Resplendent in their finery
Mansions with massive halls.

The poor folk at the other end
Live starving in the streets,
The rich folk talk of helping
But their talk is empty bleats.

The government would like to help
But would have to raise taxation,
The rich would never hear of that
And after all, they own this nation.

So the poor live in the open roads
And have to live on air,
The rich live in their villas fine
And enjoy a sumptuous bill of fare.

The rich will have their luxuries
Though the poor are living rough,
But the rich folk say, “We cannot help
”We’re already doing it tough!”

”We pay two Percent taxation now
“Why the devil should we pay more?
”It’s not our fault that some are needy!
”Why should we have to help the poor?”

”Yes what do we owe the poor folk
”It’s not our fault that they’re needy,
”Why should we have to give a damn
”We’re rich and oh so greedy.”

And the government submits to them
Too afraid to ever stand tough,
So maybe soon the time will come
When we have to shout, “Enough!”

© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia