Listen to poem:
Who's Your Daddy
When under the gun how can one
not be outdone by nepotism
or overcome by favouritism
altho' the norm they're no more
than a form of terrorism
a nebulous opponent none can fight
on the human landscape
naught but a blight
from which we can't escape or run
any self-respecting someone would shun
and as for me you see
I was obviously yet definitely
born in the wrong place
at the wrong time with the wrong face
seeing promotion from outside in the cold
not a foot could I put over the threshold
what with doors slammed progress jammed
out of my depth in over my head
can't get a look-in may as well be dead
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