Most poor souls who ended up
Leaving their bodies here
Came over because friends
Or relatives wrote
And told them it was not at all
Like the old country;
In this new world
There was more than you
Could imagine, plenty
To do and more
Money than you
Ever dreamed of—
All you had to do
Was keep your head
Down, stoop over
And—without
Missing a beat—
Pick it up.
A poem in two parts. Perfect.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jonathan!
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