John A. Hancock

Rookie (July 1st 1963 / Toronto)

Sonnet # 13 Welfare - Poem by John A. Hancock

They served unto me their great knowledge
Tis to laugh upon this gift
Their words they believe beyond my conception
Yet I hear them clearly not one word do I miss
Seers they are we are led to believe
That they know'th what drives my mind
Then let loose thy tongues with lines of scorn
Their words to me be most unkind
Like a dog I obey my master's charge
For scraps from their table fill my plate
Gratefully do I bow to this charity
As time is preached to me and the danger if I be late
Are we not all God's children born of our Lord's holy grace
Yet if thy money purse be empty it looks to our disgrace

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 19, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, December 20, 2011

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