She hangs upon the ladder, looking out on all of her glorious creations, This sun that beats down upon her, she cringes at the pain of it, Stinging sweat slides all along the sides of her face of newborn nation Grand things she has promised, although she would build a monument To honour the dead who fought valiantly to protect their land, Their new found supposed right to enslave. And also don't forget their brave new world of uneducated ******, all-in-the family goodness, "un-needed" liberation of Innocent blacks. Those unlawful ne'er do wells! She would fight To keep them all to herself and her bidding, even to the grave!
*While in truth they have not committed any absolute crimes, Like their ancestors-nor any reason why they are doing hard time.