Conservatism, Humor, Madness, Medieval, poetry, Republicans

Trickle Down (A Poem)

The plebs are hungry

What to do?

First we must feed the lord!

He’ll feast and have his fill

Like so many hogs fattened at the trough

He’ll grow fat and happy

And find him-self in a generous mood

So he’ll waddle to the balcony

And salute the ragged mob below

By dropping his enormous drawers

He’ll bend over the balustrade

And hoist his ass on high

And out from ‘tween his

Ham-hock cheeks

Trickled down the peasant’s share

Oh how the villeins squealed with joy

And opened up their hungry mouths ‘

Feasting upon the fetid abundance

Donated by the bowels of their lord

Thanks be to god and to the rich

For their beneficence and their appetite

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