Hunting The Poor

a poem by Trevor Allan McLeod, Canada

I think that we should hunt the poor
and catch them in our nets.
Then bury them in one big hole
As how we treat our pets.

Then wait for more to come along
and keep the sport alive.
To honor Queen and Country spurned
where once the dollar thrived.

Then threaten them who'd lose a dime
to sit amongst the poor.
To take what honors left in them
to die amongst the sure.

Where everyone can see a dollar
to understand it's worth.
And all the poor who lose a dollar
fill in the cost of birth.

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