Thou Protesteth Too Little

Indefatigable am I, From the wretched dilapidated tenements to the soiled banks of the Versailles, Hear my cry, Left to their own devices the gilded wage masters will not comply, Doth not their protestations for my benevolence in pursuit of profits their intentions belie, Consuming the necessities for which my consignment to labor could buy, Must you have all the pie and I to barely survive, Anguished prayers to the heavens steadfastly grasped until the guttural sigh, I shalt no more ask why, But I shall fight, fight, fight, Until I die.