The Unhappy Hippy Poem by Mary Champion

Hip, hip Hooray, I'm a hippy
with my long flowing hair and my beads.
I know there are some think I'm dippy
for they don't like what I do with weeds.

My style is to offer you flowers
because love is my message to all
and that's why establishment powers
do their best to keep me behind walls.

Once there were thousands just like me
only most of the bastards sold out.
So I do not believe it is likely
that a person like me has much clout.

We once talked of love and forgiving
and it's that, that they hated the most.
They think making money is living
the green dreams that we once had are toast.

Dreams we could make the world fairer
are all dashed now the free market rules.
True human compassion is rarer
than ever - and the remit of fools.

Jeer when I say I'm a hippy.
Nowadays we are objects of scorn -
degenerate, ditsy and drippy
our philosophy dumped and out-worn.

Making love and not war was our passion,
now ‘the winner takes all' is the creed.
Victimising the poor is the fashion.
Our god is the green one of greed.