I see by the morning papers
That America's sturdy sons
Have started a investigation
Of the making of guns.
The morning paper tells me
They have asked the senate to guess
Whether Mr. Dupont and the gun-sharks
Have influence with the press.
I sit alone in the twilight
After my work is done
And wonder if my day's three and eight-pence
Would count on the price of a gun.
Was I started wrong as a kiddie,
And would my old man have been smarter
To send me to work in Vickers
Instead of being a carter?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem