Their Heraldry Poem by Naveed Akram

Never do loves and likes coincide as butlers do,
Doers of faith are the rich-at-heart, the well-to-do;
Faithful servants overreach and call their signals,
Of the impairments their rules are fixed.
Never does the healthy man be a fond man,
Frothing at the mouth with disorder and menace,
Like a wolf that devours its young players,
Feeding on the bewitched for the whole mind.
Never do lovers of the richer kind stray from their paths
As their jobs are one of the richest and sparked.
Nevertheless, the richer few command the poorer sort
From their heads and quivers, calling their heralds.