poema de la semana 8-03-10

Poem of the Week 8-03-10
Caged rats by Ebenezer Elliott

(Acompañen este poema con imagenes de Carstens comiendo, y de Fecal sonriendo sinicamente)

Ye coop us up, and tax our bread,
And wonder why we pine;
But you are fat, and round, and red,
And filled with tax-bought wine.
Thus twelve rats starve and three rats thrive,
(Like you on mine and me,)
When fifteen rats are caged alive,
With food for nine and three.

Haste! Havoc’s touch begins to glow –
The ending is begun;
Make haste! Destruction thinks ye slow;
Make haste to be undone!
Why are you called “my Lord” and “Squire”,
While feed by mine and me,
And wringing food, and clothes, and fire,
From breed-taxed misery?


Make haste, slow rogues! prohibit trade,
Prohibit honest gain;
Turn all the good that god hath made
To fear, and hate, and pain;
Till beggars all, assassins all,
All cannibals we be,
And death shall have no funeral
From shipless sea to sea.

PR1174 E9 1981
EVERYMAN'S BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE / EDITED BY JOHN WAIN. -- LONDON : J. M. DENT, 1981.