Extolling the Great

Extolling the great Protest poetry is a waste of time He is a victim of the lion And the man in the middle A poet who write nationalistic poems Will be extolled by the elite He might even get an income never be free To write what he wants Less they take his money back Call him a traitor and he have to take the bus home Reduced to reading his poem in draughty rooms To an audience of innocent lambs How have dreams of greatness? But he will get tea and scones The lion doesn`t roar; it is made of stone And decorates the entrance of the elite.