Found

Beyond the fast rising smoke between the free and the poor it is told of some peasant folk a story which starts in the sewer some tell it their way most speak of it wrong lets hear what they say and listen to their song take heed I say at your peril think strongly if you must take from it mix it hen tell it ether way its bound to disgust slowly thinks the mind of the mute if only burdens to hear struggles to put up a dispute that will grip you fear only till now gripped by sound wishing all will be well where they print the pound only they folk can tell honesty is a virtue known by few speech is a weapon quite well known hart felt is a feeling that ain't new death is a number by the wind blown so I speak of a riddle some might not grip but if you dwell in the middle then the higher you sit some say it is freedom some say it is terror more say it is kingdom come less float on a doves feather pick and piece turn it around tell your friends to simmer down all we need grows in the ground peace and love in this world ain't easily found