THE PIG

So they run around and their tongues hangeth

Like nylon in a whirlwind they move around like a sachet

With human masks on their faces what they really are is the title

Abashed actions wondered me, read not they the bible?

Hays they make not but when the moon approaches

Shame they eventually face like hungry cockroaches

Daughters of smelters married to sons of hungry leppers

Loot treasuries do them so as to be ‘once upon a time beggars’

Pigs the plural of pig

Would remain but a pig mind not how big

Let’s call a spade a spade

Look into the truth you! Tare it open with a blade

And so they sayeth ‘give to me your mandate’

Reacheth there they, hard they become like palm date

Pocket people’s money and become an entrepreneur

No matter how far or near they’d never make the ark of Noah

The crown that swimmeth in the canals of corruption

Taketh the hope of the proletariats and replaceth with heaps of stolen national treasure

Shall face the wrath and their gaol we shall not measure

Believeth me their remains shall know no pleasure

Brothers their votes and mandates we shant rig

Maketh them pigs that dig big and findeth a bigger pig

Washeth, clean, rubbeth in and exeunt of a pig

A pig no matter how doeth remains but a better pig