We never go to church to pray on Sunday, we don’t attend Council meetings of the Town
Whilst others like to nurture the tall poppies we are the type who’d like to cut them down.
We are the have nots of the social fringes that’s what the ruling classes of us say
And we are condemned to suffer on in silence the laws that others make we do obey
We do not need the faithful to pray for us for their own salvation they ought to pray
If their god as they say has the gift of forgiveness we too may be in their heaven one day.
To any sort of greatness we don’t have pretentions but we too will live till our time comes to die
The Monarch, the Pope or the President no different in that respect to you or I
Suppose if we could only live forever we may well may become quite bored with life
Wearied from our many problems and our struggles with our worries and our inner strife.
I’m one of those an ageing rhymer one who has penned many pages of rhyme
But I too will be one of the forgotten when I fall victim of old father time
But show me a cause I think worth fighting for and for it I assuredly will fight
And for those who are in any way disadvantaged I never feel shy for to write.