We cut the budget to the bone
With edicts handed from the throne,
And leave the children all alone,
While we, the children's fate bemoan.
We do not think that it can be
That one can know, that one can see
That all our 'generosity'
Is posturing pomposity.
We throw more poor folk on the street
And pad the rich man's bank account.
We slap our knee, and think it's neat
And hire another man to count.
We all just watch, and make no fuss.
Forget the kids, just coddle us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem