Poem: And Pigs Might Fly

Issue 

And pigs might fly

It was crisis day in the parliament
The house was hushed and still.
A member rose with a question
“Are we doomed to go downhill?”
“I am confident of an upturn”,
The PM made reply.
“If workers pay is held at bay,
We'll all be home and dry.”
“How true, how true”, cried the workers.
“Let's end this wicked strike.
We don't want a rise in wages,
They can stick it where they like.”
“Thank God, Thank God”, sobbed the bosses.
“There's faith on the factory floor.
And now we've got this extra lot
We'll give it to the poor.”
They filled their pockets with money
And ran with eager feet
Pressing their surplus profits
On the people in the street.
They moved among the dole queues
And boarded every bus
With streaming eyes and heartfelt cries
“You need it more than us”.
Soon all the people prospered
And the devil became a saint
Now the sober unions
Had exercised restraint.
The cities were filled with singing
And the sound of laughter spread
As hand took hand in the golden land
and pigs flew overhead.
Anonymous


 

If you like our work, become a supporter

Green Left is a vital social-change project and aims to make all content available online, without paywalls. With no corporate sponsors or advertising, we rely on support and donations from readers like you.

For just $5 per month get the Green Left digital edition in your inbox each week. For $10 per month get the above and the print edition delivered to your door. You can also add a donation to your support by choosing the solidarity option of $20 per month.

Freecall now on 1800 634 206 or follow the support link below to make a secure supporter payment or donation online.