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.
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