The Poor - Nits

A rich man’s work always gets done

He spends his days out in the sun

Trusting the figures in the morning

Your sweat — the oil in his machine

You are the eyelid for his dreams

He knows his ten commandments:

Use your neighbours

Love their labour

The poor man’s pound is all you get

No matter what you try it’s dead

You’ve learned to write your name, so Sign these papers

Love your neighbours