Life Never Pleasant For the Peasant

A parent wanting his son to survive, For this begins to humanly strive To snatch him back, have his Jim revive The scene before twelve a buzzing beehive, Even as more alerted feet arrive, Delaying Journalists to the scene soon drive A hunger-induced fall and tragic swoon No unpaid medic ever arrives that soon No ready-for-body-use glucose, An unashamed fry of sugar as penury chose Life, indeed, never had been pleasant For Abraham, the-all-time peasant His spared help, the solidarity faces of onlookers A number with good mustache, the rest all whiskers.