You Globalist Swine

I was not born
For wage for work
Mortality is nuf a yoke
So leave me be
To breathe the green
And soak in summer reveries
The never-ending grassy plain
The deep woods cabin
Where I sleep
Not this life of applicant
Begging for your shiny dime
But as a roaming Cherokee
Or Hottentot, the adult child
Or yeoman farmer in the South
To toil my simple dignity
As simple as my acre plowed
Before you scaled me out of means
Dragooned me into Babbitry.
Oh you golden mogul pimps
That put my honor up for bid
I’ll hang you by your balls
You’ll see and hang you
By your balls and shares
And hang you by your
Underlying! 

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