Little foxes, like the great boxes,
They eat our farm in the corridors of the public coffers
I want to **** them but no one offers,
Any help that I dire need
If to do were as easy, poor men's cottages, princess palaces
But not!
Should I swing the guns? Or eat the buns?
Do I migrate to another world?
Should I get to all wander?
I must rise, to defend the vulnerbale
Against the massacre machete wielders
That greatly compromise our livelihood
When they so desire to derange us
We must fight until its equal
All over
For we must be bold.