Song Of A Poor Man 2 Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

SONG OF A POOR MAN 2
Give me a chair
And Let me sit in your midst
And praise poverty and want

The Face of a poor man
Stays all crumpled up
By Reason of the hunger and thirst
Which are in his stomach........

Tell my neighbours to Work not me
My bones are weary of The pains
My children, relax at home and feast
Every good thing must surely come

Give me mat to lie
I work no more like an elephant
But sit and Wait for the food to Come
I was not made to kill my self but to
Wait on the lucky green side Of the world
Where food must come to my table

I will fold my hands and watch
I am too old to toll and labour
Work is for the youths
My children is where my hope lies