The Rich Poem by Randy McClave

The rich they are different from you and me
From an early age prosperity is all they see,
They see financial reports while we sing a hymn
It truly does something to them.

They cook with butter while we use lard
They become soft while we become hard,
They are very suspicious while we are very trusting
And they see and think of us as disgusting.

They play and sing while you and I work
We learn to laugh and smile, they learn to give a smirk,
They don't ever toil or are taught to work to earn
They are always given whatever they wish for or yearn.

Unless you are born with that silver spoon
You learn to help others very soon,
The rich don't ever have blisters upon either hand
Unless you're rich, they are difficult to understand.

They think in their heart that they are better than everyone
They are the money, and they think also the brains and the brawn,
Just because they had inherited or was given their wealth
While we discovered compensations of life for ourself.

On golden roads they believe only they should walk
Of leaned degrees and of philosophy only they should talk,
And when war is seen on land, or sea, or in the sky
They believe the poor and not the rich, should serve and die.

When the rich suffer or have lost all that they own
When they sink in the mud and then they too begin to moan,
They will look at you and me and then they begin to cuss
They still think and believe that they are stll better than us.

The rich want to be praised and worshiped like royalty
They want and demand a hundred percent loyalty,
Their belief and way of life they will not ever change;
The rich indeed are very greedy, and also very strange.

Randy L. McClave