Colin F. Jones





What you borrow you must pay back or perish,
Or at least you must struggle to live,
For to exist on money you don’t really have,
Is your soul and your future to give,
To the puppeteer who owns not the strings,
That he manipulates with unsteady hands
That eventually to your door step brings,
All the harshness of enforced demands.
The fat duck swims low in the water,
And takes longer to swim to the shore,
Is caught in the culling and slaughter,
When the rich start becoming the poor.
And that which her father had bought her,
She sells to accumulate more.


The poor rise up from the demand of their labour,
Which is cheap; to become the rich,
They benefit most from the affluent saviour,
Who has forgotten how to sow a stitch.
They don’t darn any more their worn stocking;
They don’t repair in their shirt a rip.
While those who they often are mocking,
Are the ones, who most benefit,
Thus the affluent drown in their prisons,
While the poor lands blossom and bloom,
And it is the poor making the decisions,
Becoming the affluent from the resulting boom.
Japan rose from the ashes of destruction,
And China will climb the mountain quite soon.


Australia is empty and defenceless
It is a gold mine of uranium and coal,
Its cattle turn meadows to deserts,
And Rabbits occupy many a hole.
It’s a democracy of free living people,
Where racial struggles will one day begin,
For many flags fly high on the steeple,
Each over the other are eager to win.
As the world overpopulates, becoming famished
The walls protecting the wilderness will fall,
Until all the tropical trees have vanished,
And the winds sweep over it all.
And the silly arguments of old men and politicians
Will leave faint echoes in the hall.