Just raw money I gather from this job
Though mirthfulness is not depraved quite yet
I still face fear in the face of the mob
The clouds seem darker once this job is set

The menaced eyes parading me around
This only leads me to be successful
And while I can't say I have higher ground
Thus far, it's not having been so stressful.

The mob comes flocking in at crack of dawn
Awaiting for the food they seek that day
They always bite the hand that feeds them, brawn
I haven't cared enough to go away

Yes, giving food to them can be quite hard
But it at least beats not being a bard