Salutation Poem by Raymond Farrell

O viperous generation, utterly contemptible
Taking from the downtrodden without compunction
To satisfy your wandering lust for power
I know bush hands living in tar-papered shacks
Plying their back-breaking trade
Stopping long enough to feed squirrels
Or sing with gusto to the wind
Owning nothing but tattered clothes and steel-toed boots
Wanting nothing but to feel the wind on their faces
And I am happier than you are;
Because I have not disregarded
The cries of the widow and fatherless
Or forsaken the stranger at my gates
And they are happier than I am;
And the birds flitting in the trees
Are clothed by God Himself
And He has given them the voice of angels.