Immigrants Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

They were sleeping at their desks and passed the weirdo to come in
and they carried little bombs and hand grenades,
asked a question seeking answers to the presence of great sin
and the lies did flow in buckets and in spades.
It is clear now that the bastards who came crawling to us then
have now morphed to call the shots or so they say,
we will stand up to your shadows, we the rightful, honest men
and you'd better take your rags and go away.

You have never been accepted, face the truth once in your life
in the territory that you'd like to own,
you betrayed the noble spirit when you carried the big knife
and a heart so freshly carved of yellow stone.