Poor man, I work for the rich to earn for self; bread butter jam The longest marathon, short life’s sojourn, car a must to run The rat race begun; need the fat sum to repay my loan Fast as I can; Thus work harder ten to ten. In the bargain Become a shuttlecock, work hither to pay thither. Money flows, from one rich to another Via me, ‘The man on the run,’ position constant; A privileged politburo none, nor a capitalist hangman; My status unchanged many a look alike me, in between stand; Exploited through and through by a handful few. The pillar to post run, up-to-date remain, Ping-Pong entertain-- Communists, capitalists gain, profit all the same; The tug-of-war game. Born riffraff, it’s silly to complain Eyes open, drive on.
