A poem by: Ben Dunk. 1967.




Land owner:†††††††††††††† What the hell are you doing here,

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† eating my apples so dear?

††† †††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††get off my land and donít come back.


Down and out:†††††††††† But, Sir, I am hungry and,

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† food I lack.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† please let me have one,

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† or I am done.


Land owner:††††††††††††† Quit your appealing,

†††††††††††††† †††††††††††††††††††you are stealing

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† in every sense of the word,

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† therefore, I say to you,

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† go, before I have you floored:

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† to receive your due.

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† think yourself lucky to leave now,

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† take your bow.


Down and out:††††††††† then, sir, I regret to say

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† I must persuade you to my way.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† There is a gun in my hand,

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† now you cannot stand.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† you are bleeding,

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† not heeding.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† As I eat my fill,

† †††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††gone ill!


Two of the principal evils in this world

are manís lack of charity and starvation.