I'm not sure but I really suppose
that the facts are, well, dammit who knows
just a mix of small lies
but I'll shun the small fries
yet a tiny one prospers and grows.
Said an ugly and shit-covered fly,
I am flying so high in the sky
that the odour is scant
to the average ant
you may call me the fly on the sly.
You the people know (Jeeezus) so little
hence no chance for an early acquittal,
as today we campaign
we shall hide our disdain
all you have is a few drops of spittle.
We are born to be rulers of fools
use a whip on the oxen and mules.
We don't care about you
this is utterly true,
it's the Have-Not who whinges and drools.
To the end of the world, the hereafter,
we look up where you hang on a rafter.
So what did you expect
from a group so select,
you will swing to the sound of our laughter.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/class-distinction/
