Mark Heathcote Poems
Poverty Is A Gift
Father, poverty is a gift
Ask any bird taking a rain bath.
Son, don't make's me laugh
There's nothing but rain
Poverty isn't a gift
There's nothing but pain.
So son fastens your reigns
Ride for them riches today
Don't live by wage's daily
Paid only once monthly
Father poverty is a gift.
Son nothing is ever enough,
Just ask your mum.
Meeting On The Hill
A hand up brother, a free man's gift
We can share this summit in a handshake
It's barren; nothing to steal here or take
There's no dividing line, African Rift,
Nothing here to fight over and conquer
'So let us parley with one another
As if we're two kings' and discuss Sulphur
Ore and lumber and who is the squatter?
And spin a revolver; I own Ghana,