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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required At the national picket of the unhappy I see large crooked coins Hoisted like placards above the irate crowd. On the first face, I see immigrants & owls embossed, And on the second, snakes & neighbors. It's the coin they toss To divine the wellspring of troubles That every day beset this broken nation. It turns at every toss to land first face up When crime is up and jobs down. The oracle, I know, holds the second face in reserve To deploy on that day to come When the homeland is rid of strange hairs and noses But crime is still up and about And jobs still down and out. Yes, when immigrants are gone it'll be neighbors in the dock Taking blame for all national ills. History will stand witness As the whips and stones that now descend on immigrants To break their bones and spirit Give way to tanks and missiles Sent forth to break bone and spirit Across the trampled borders To the east, west, and south Previously crossed by immigrants But now crossed by armies. Wisdom beckons to the clueless right But her call they will not heed. With glee they hasten to their likes across the border, Carrying their precious coins in tow With which they purchase glib excuses To explain away all national failure. How little they know that when their deed is done And all immigrants gone We'll be back to war, war, war As of yore, When the homeland had not strange hairs and noses To take away from neighbors the blame for national ills.
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